Queen of Horses
by Nalale
Summary: Lothíriel wakes up feeling strange after her first night in Rohan. What could be the cause? Perhaps the air, or is it something else entirely?
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello all! So I came up with this fun little story out of nowhere. I haven't ever read anything quite like it, and there might be a few elements that aren't fully cannon (though since we don't know much about Harad and their practices, I believe I can be forgiven).**

 **This story is really only meant for fun. So sit back and enjoy!**

The tent before Lothíriel was covered in colorful scarves. The imposing city of Minas Tirith stood behind her, casting its shadow over the mess of tents with foreign traders. The rich scent of spices hung in the air and the gaggle of conversation, only some of it in the common tongue, wafted past her like the breeze. She stared at the colorful tent, making sure her hood was pulled over her head enough to hide her identity before entering.

Within the tent, she could smell strong incense. How it managed to remain within the confines of the tent's fabric walls, she doubted she would ever know, but that was only the beginning. In the center of the tent, an elderly woman sat. By the hazy look over her eyes, Lothíriel could tell that she was blind, but she had turned her face towards Lothíriel, a knowing expression painted on her dark, leathery face.

"Come forth, my daughter." The woman's voice crackled like a dying fire. Lothíriel's heart beat madly within her chest. She licked her lips nervously before stepping forward. The woman pointed to a cushion before her, and without needing instruction, Lothíriel sat down.

"How did you know I was a woman?" Her voice came out a bit more shrill than she had meant it to be. The elder cackled lightly.

"When you are blind, and have lived as long as me," her smile remained, "you begin to realize the differences in a person's gait and how different types of clothes sound. Not to mention, you smell very feminine. But that is not the question you have come here to ask, I presume?"

"You're right." Lothíriel chuckled nervously. "One of my maids came here and said you seemed to be a genuine fortune teller. I thought, with how uncertain my future feels, I might as well see if you have any insight."

"Fortune tellers are little better than fortune hunters, if you ask me." Her smile faded away. "I remember a maid. I saw her future, though that is all I will delve of what I saw. The only futures I reveal are to those that are involved. But the future can sometimes seem more of a burden than a boon. Are you sure you want to know yours?"

"Yes." Lothíriel nodded decisively. "I've heard talks from my father that he is in talks with the King of Rohan to propose my marriage. Supposedly, it's meant to be declared when we go to Rohan for their midsummer celebrations."

"And you wish to know if it is a good match." It wasn't a question. She stared at Lothíriel's face, the princess was almost sure she could see. "Hmm, yes." She muttered to herself. "I see."

"What do you see?" Lothíriel lowered her voice slightly and leaned forward.

"I see two paths before you. One leading to tragedy and the other to happiness. But in order to find your happiness, you must do something very specific." The woman tapped her knee lightly. "Would you be willing to do that, for the sake of your happiness?"

Lothíriel bit her lip for a moment. "Tell me what it is that I must do first."

Take this vial, and on the night of the first full moon after you have stepped into the land of the horselords, you must go alone into the fields and drink this."

"How do I know it is safe to drink?" Lothíriel looked at the clear liquid before her skeptically.

"I not only give you my word, but I will demonstrate." She lifted the vial to her lips and told a sip of the liquid.

Lothíriel took the vial from her and held it carefully. "What does the road to my happiness look like?"

"You and your husband will be happy and fruitful. All who come into contact with you will be at peace and he will be known as the blessed one."

"But will my husband be the king?"

"Does it matter if your husband is a king or a beggar if it will lead to your true happiness?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose not." Lothíriel pulled out a coin pouch. "How much do I owe you for this vial?"

The woman smiled knowingly, "I will collect payment only when you have achieved your happiness." She paused, "Now it is time for you to go. Your brothers search for you. Make sure to hide that vial and tell no one, else all will come to failure."

Lothíriel felt bewildered but stood. "Goodbye mistress." She turned and exited the tent. As the flap closed behind her the woman's voice called out.

"Goodbye Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth." Lothíriel turned, stunned. She had not given her name purposefully. But when she looked at the spot, the tent was gone as if it had never existed in the first place. Feeling even stranger, she simply stared at the empty plot of grass.

"There you are, sister dear." She felt an arm sling across your shoulder. Turning her head, she saw the curly black hair of her brother, Amrothos. "Staring into nothingness." He smiled cheerily. Lothíriel made sure her hands were tucked under her cloak, hiding the vial within the confines of the warm fabric.

"Sorry," she smiled up at him. "I seemed to have wandered off."

"It is a little thing, since your are not unwell." Amrothos tightened his grip on her, pulling her into an awkward hug. "But given the time, I suppose we should begin to head back to our home. We are leaving in the morning for Rohan."

"How long do you suppose it will take for us to arrive at Edoras?"

"Well," Amrothos pondered as he began to lead her back towards where the Dol Amrothian horses had been picketed, "if the roads remain dry and there is nothing to hinder our travels, I'd say we'll arrive in five days hence. The night of the full moon, if the lunar calendar is correct."


	2. Chapter 1: Awakenings

Lothíriel opened her eyes. The dawn was just rising in the east, though it was unusual for her to be awake early enough to see it. What was stranger still was that she was watching it from the plains of Rohan. The city of Edoras stood on its hill before her and further off, to its side lingered the silver and blue tents of Dol Amroth. _'How odd.'_ She considered as she looked around herself. She had been laying not on a pallet, but the bare ground. It was hard underneath her. She stood. It took longer than usual. She was very stiff. _'Perhaps that was why it is a bad idea to sleep on the bare ground.'_ She thought to herself. The real question she had was how she had gotten out there to begin with. Her memories of the night were hazy. She had never been prone to sleep walking, though her Aunt Ivriniel had often cautioned her on the dangers of it. But even if she had taken a midnight walk, wouldn't one of the guards have seen her and stopped her.

 _'It doesn't matter.'_ She took a deep – and rather noisy – breath. _'I'm sure that everything will be sorted out once I speak to Father. Perhaps it's my nerves. I'll make sure to instruct my maid to ensure something like this does not happen again.'_ She halted her inner monologue as she glanced to the ground. Had the ground always been so far away. Surely she had not suddenly grown over the course of a single night? Shanking her head, she took another breath. Spotting a small, clear pond close to Edoras, she walked over to it. Before going back to the tents, she would ensure that she did not look as if she had spent the night sleeping on the grass like some peasant.

As she took a few steps forward, she felt heavier that normal. _'What is wrong with me today?'_ She wondered absently, as she continued forward gracefully. It wasn't until she reached the pond that she understood. The face that looked back at her was not that of a princess who had descended from the Princes of Numenor. It was the face of a horse! With the realization, she remembered how she had gotten out to the field. She had purposefully gone out and drank the liquid from that fortune telling woman.

Her noisy breath bellowed in and out from her enlarged nostrils as she tried to reign in her panic. _'Perhaps this is a dream. Perhaps the drink I took gives one wild dreams, or hallucinations.'_ She began to take a few deeper breaths as she continued to study her new image. She was covered in a blue-black horsehair, the same color as her hair had been in her human form. Her eyes were still the blue-green they had been as well. Everything else was different.

She let out a soft whiny as her breath finally evened out. _'Think, Lothíriel! There has to be a way out of this predicament. Perhaps I should still try to find Father. He may know what to do.'_ She thought desperately. She turned away from the pond and began to make her way towards the tents. _'But what can he do?'_ Her steps began to halt. She looked to her side and saw the gate of Edoras looming above her. In front of it, two Rohirrim guards stared at her, their expressions calm. She stared back at them. One of them smiled at her and nodded, respectfully.

 _'Does he know that I'm me inside?'_ Lothíriel wondered. _'Perhaps I really am only hallucinating!'_ She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words, a long neigh sounded. She was taken aback by the sound. She felt her ears flatten atop her head. A very strange feeling it was too. Behind her, she was aware of her long, black tail swishing back and forth rapidly. The smile on the guard disappeared and the expression was replaced by a wariness.

Before anything else could happen, there was a clambering of hooves against the road behind them. Her ears switched forward, her attention diverted from her predicament momentarily. Within a few seconds, she saw a procession moving through the gateway. At the head of the party was a man who sat tall atop a dapple gray stallion. He had long blond hair and atop his head was a dark golden crown. Without another thought, all the lessons that had been taught to her as a princess kicked in and she bowed her head respectfully.

"What do we have here?" His deep voice called out in Rohirric, the question brought the party around him to a stop. Lothíriel was glad she had always had a knack for languages and as such had elected to learn every one she had access to. At his side was a tall maiden who had her long blond hair flowing freely behind her.

"What a beauty!" The woman sighed.

"Where did she come from? Is she from the Amrothian camp?" the king asked the guards who shrugged. "Perhaps not. I doubt they would allow their horses to roam freely."

"There seems to be greater intelligence in this one's eyes than even our normal horses, brother." The woman spoke. "Perhaps it is one of the Mearas?"

 _'Brother? That must be the Lady Éowyn!'_

"Perhaps, though that is unlikely. This one looks to be about five or six years of age, and I remember going to see the yearlings nearly each year prior and during the war." He dismounted and began to approach her slowly. Another man also dismounted from his horse and followed the king's footsteps. Lothíriel stared at the king intently. As he approached her, the second man handed the king some nubs of…something. Lothíriel looked from the hand of the king to the nubs and back for a few moments. As his hand grew ever closer to her mouth, she breathed in the smell and determined that they were carrots.

At the smell of the vegetable, she realized how hungry she was. She tried to take them from his hand carefully. In her concentration, she hardly registered the hand gently placed on her backside. Until the second man spoke. "Well it's a mare, Sire." Realizing what the man had been doing – or rather what he had been looking at, Lothíriel snorted and flicked her tail, nearly hitting the man in the face.

The king laughed, "Careful, Éothain. It seems you're having just as much luck with the ladies as ever." Lothíriel looked at him with irritation. She let out a sharp blow. _'You should be glad that's all you get. If I was not so out of sorts I would…'_ Her thought was interrupted as a gentle hand stroked her neck. She faced him once again, her ears moved forward, though they were much more relaxed.

"And it seems you have as much luck with them as ever." Éothian laughed as he came back to his king's side. "Perhaps you should consult the breeding records in Edoras. They have all the recorded Mearas there.

"And even if not," Éowyn stated, "I doubt anyone would not record the birth of such a lovely mare."

Éomer nodded. "I will do that, but until then, let's take her with us to the Amrothian tents. Perhaps she belongs there and happened to get away from the camp."

Without a word, Éowyn came up beside her, and Éomer remounted and came to her other side. As the two of them walked forward, some instinct kicked and and Lothíriel followed suit. She was glad that despite her size and other changes that had somehow taken place within her, she could still move with the grace that bespoke her lineage – however unlikely anyone would be to recognize it.

 **A/N: Well, hope you've enjoyed so far. I'm intending to make this story relatively short, and the chapters will probably be pretty short as well since I've decided against jumping perspectives like I did in Currents of Time.**

 **Please feel free to leave a review and any fun little suggestions on what you think would be an interesting/funny situation for our favorite princess to deal with!**

 **See you next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 2: Missing

The activity in the camp was lively, but Lothíriel hardly paid attention as she watched her father's tent in the center of the encampment grow closer with each step. Eventually all came to a halt, and her strange instinct called her to halt as well. As they were announced, Lothíriel saw the flap of the tent move as her father and eldest brother exit. Éomer and his party dismounted and her father and King Éomer joined hands jovially.

"Good morrow, my friend!" Éomer's tone was light and friendly. He clapped Elphir lightly on the shoulder. "I am glad to see you this morning. I regret that I was unable to greet you properly after you arrived last evening."

"The sun had already dipped past the horizon by the time we had set up camp, and it is better to see a friend when one has had a few hours of sleep to rely on." He father laughed. "I see that you have brought a whole entourage with you, and perhaps," he paused, looking carefully at Lothíriel, "a gift?" Seeing her father's attention, she whinnied lightly, hoping to somehow express to him who she really was.

Éomer laughed at the quizzical expression on her father's face and shook his head. "She was standing unattended at our front gates and we wondered if she belonged here."

"I have never had a horse so fine in my life," he returned the laugh, "though part of my wishes it were in my nature to lie and claim her for myself."

"Well, in the land of Rohan, honesty is a commodity that is valued as much as the food in our larders and the mead in our halls." He stood silently for a few moments. "I've actually come with the hope to meet your daughter without all the formality of being in the court. Is it likely that she is awake? I know the hour is rather early."

Her father waved his hand. "I'm sure she will be rousing herself soon enough. Perhaps while we wait, your horses can be tended to and you can join me as I break my fast." Éomer nodded and the rest of his party dismounted from their own horses. With a fluidness that bespoke years of performing the task, a Amrothian man stepped forward, guiding the horses – and Lothíriel between them – towards a large fenced in bit of open grass, just past the large tent. While inside, Lothíriel immediately spotted her own horse, Starlight, the white mare who had been by her side since she had first learned to ride. As she approached Starlight, the mare sniffed Lothíriel with interest for a few moments. Before anything else could happen, the same young man carried two large buckets to the trough before dumping the clear contents into it.

Without realizing what she was doing, she began to trot over to the water, and just as she was bending down her head to the water for a drink she realized what she was doing. Lifting her head with a snort, she looked around embarrassed. _'I'll never be able to convince anyone who I am if I behave like an animal!'_ She sniffed a few times and she felt the pangs in her stomach from hunger. The carrots had not been nearly enough to satisfy her. _'What is there to eat?'_ She looked around and saw that most of the horses were grazing on the green grass. _'Oh no! There has to be something other than that around here.'_ But after a cursory search she saw that there was nothing else to be had. She began to look somewhat longingly on the grass. _'Perhaps if I get some attention from the stable boy.'_

She trotted closer to the tent and began to neigh, nodding her head a few times. After being ignored, she looked at the fence and began to wonder if it would be best to just leave the enclosed area and search for something on her own. She inspected the length of the enclosure and resolved that there was not enough room for a proper running start. _'If only the people were a little less proficient at tending to their animals.'_ She sighed inwardly.

Her thoughts on her empty stomach were not there for long. She saw her maid running from what had been Lothíriel's tent towards her father's.

"My lord!" She sounded frantic. Within the tent, she could hear – many thanks to her enlarged ears – the people standing and she could have sworn she heard a sword being pulled from its sheath. As the maid entered, Lothíriel heard her father's concerned voice.

"What is it, Calarel? What is wrong?"

"She…My lord," Calarel began to stammer, her breath heaved.

"Calm yourself," her father spoke gently. "Bring me a chair." He waited for a few moments before saying, "Now seat yourself and tell me what is the matter."

"I cannot my lord." She sounded calmer now, though there was still a tremor in her voice. "Princess Lothíriel is gone!"

"What do you mean she is gone?" She heard King Éomer's voice. Lothíriel hated that she couldn't see past the fabric and watch the conversation unfold.

"I went to go and wake her for the day, and when I entered, I saw that she was not in bed. That did not alarm me at first, as the princess may have awoken to, erm," she paused and her voice grew quieter, "relieve herself." But when I exited, no one had seen her since we made camp last night. So she must be gone!"

"Try to be calm." Her father spoke gently to the maid. "Remain here and I will send some guards out to search for her. I'm sure that she is fine." She could tell by the tone of his voice that his words were meant to calm her. _'I'm sorry for worrying you, Father. I'm sorry Calarel.'_ Lothíriel gave a silent apology.

"Éothain, gather some of the Dol Amroth guards and search the surrounding areas." King Éomer's voice spoke with the clear tone of authority. "I will remain in Edoras for the time being. If she still has not been found by noon, we will make further plans." She watched as Éothain exited the tent and barked orders to another Rohirrim before approaching and instructing a group of Swan-Knights. They stood at attention and moved into action within moments.

"Imrahil, my friend," Éomer spoke calmly. "Éothain is one of the best trackers I have ever met. Unless the princess sprouted wings, he'll find her."

"Even if she sprouted wings, I'll bet he'd find her just to please you, Éomer." Éowyn's tone was calm, but she could sense a tension in her tone.


	4. Chapter 3: Odd Conclusions

The morning dragged by slowly. With each passing hour, the air within the encampment grew more and more frantic. Lothíriel's stomach hurt from the untended hunger, and with each new pang her stubbornness ebbed away. She began to lower her head towards the grass when the sound of footsteps distracted her. Éothain and the Swan-Knights were approaching the tent. Her father must have noticed their approach as well, for he turned and met them. They came to a stop just infront of the horse enclosure.

"What have you found?" Although her father's voice was calm, she could sense the cord of anxiety within. "Have you any news?"

"I do and I don't." Éothain looked slightly perturbed. "We found tracks leading from the camp that were made by someone relatively small. They lead away from both the camp and the city. That is not the only thing. There was only one set of tracks. But that is not what is most odd. The tracks end and are replaced by hoof prints."

"You believe that she rode found and rode a horse? But where would she have gone? And if she was alone, why would she have chosen to go?" Her father stroked his chin, his eyebrows knitted together.

"You misunderstand." Éothain cleared his throat. "There are no horse tracks leading to where the princess' end. They simply begin. What's more, they lead back to the city gate. Right where we found her." He pointed straight to Lothíriel.

"What are you trying to say?" The hand that was touching his face stopped all movement.

"I do not know. Only that it is very odd." Éothain shook his head slightly. "I do think as we continue to search for Princess Lothíriel, we ought to stable this mare within Edoras and perhaps things will be revealed more in time."

'In time, I'll probably still be stuck as a horse.' Lothíriel tossed her head, her long mane waving behind her. 'It could be worse, I suppose.' She pondered. 'I've heard that in this land there is a love for these creatures that have yet to be matched.'

"I couldn't help but overhear," a familiar voice called out. Lothíriel's ears nicked forward, paying close attention to their approach. King Éomer walked through the tents. Although there was an ease about his expression, the strange instinct that was within her new body informed her that he was not quite as calm as he appeared.

"My king," Éothain bowed his head, "I thought you decided to await news within Edoras."

"Unfortunately, I am a man who cannot sit and wait for news to come before me." He chucked and ran his fingers through his long, golden locks. Without another word, the King Éomer lifted himself in one fluid motion over the fence of the enclosure. Lothíriel watched him warily.

"My lady," he spoke quietly and calmly in rohirric. "I wish to house you within the walls of my home. I promise that you will be cared for. Will you allow me to escort you there?" With the way he spoke, Lothíriel almost forgot that he was speaking to her as a horse and not as the Princess of Dol Amroth. Slowly she approached and looked at him carefully before nodding her head.

Placing a gentle hand where her neck and back met, he guided her out of the enclosure. "Prince Imrahil," he halted as he spoke and she halted with him, looking down at her father, "I have made preparations for you and your sons to stay within Edoras. If you wish to remain within the encampment I will take no offense. I simply want you to be aware that you have the option."

As they continued walking, Lothíriel took the time to study the man beside her. She couldn't see his face from her position, but his hair, now free of the formal crown, fell down freely from his head. She could also see a few small braids and wondered if they were purely aesthetic or had some unknown meaning. His gait was steady and confident. He held his head high, as a king should, and each person who greeted him was greeted curtiously in return.

'I was a fool to trust some fortune teller rather than meet this King unafraid. He seems a gentle sort and even if he were not, I surely could have refused a match with him, had we been incompatible.' She hung her head a little more limply, staring at the ground. She looked at the mud and some hoof prints in the soft ground. The soft ground? Her head snapped up with an idea!

 **A/N: Oh this is so much fun to write! I hope you guys are having a good time reading this story. The next chapter is already almost done, so hopefully I'll see you with that soon!**


	5. Chapter 4: Mud Dance

She pranced away from King Éomer's hand, but before he could make chase after her, she turned and looked him, willing him to understand her. He didn't move and watched her carefully. Hoping that he was paying attention, she began to scrape one of her hooves along the mud. Moving carefully enough to make each letter legible, she wrote out I am Princess Lothíriel. It took quite a bit of time. Each curve required her to turn her entire body, but as soon as she finished the final letter, she looked at the king expectantly.

Seeing that she had stilled, he approached her and looked down at the lines in the mud. She watched him, waiting for the surprise to appear. It didn't. He smiled at her. "What a lovely dance that was, my lady." He patted her neck kindly.

'Well you're not entirely wrong.' A sudden thought occurred to her, 'What if he can't read?' She had heard that most rohirrim never learned to read or write, instead choosing to pass on stories and songs by word of mouth. She looked down at her attempt, defeated when she realized that even if her father had tried to read her writing it would be unintelligible. In her focus, she had not taken account for her other hooves and stepped over the previous letters she had spent such time on. Without the words to aid her, it probably had looked like nothing more than a silly dance.

"Are you trying to tell me your name?" The king's voice brought her back from her thoughts and a new idea came with his question.

'Lothíriel means flower garlanded maiden,' she searched the plains for several seconds. There were no maidens, and she doubted that she would have any luck finding – let alone making any kind of garland – when her eyes stopped them. A few feet away were bundles of tall, yellow flowers. With joy, she jolted forwards, stopping just before the blooms. 'This will do quite nicely!' She bent her head down and gently plucked what would have been a fistful of flowers. Carrying them in her mouth, she brought them back to the king. 'This has to work. It's me in here!' She could feel her ears twitching as she waited anxiously.

"Flower Dancer," he stroked his golden brown beard for a moment. Lothíriel blew out of her nose at the proclamation. He seemed to take it as confirmation and declared, "It is a fine name. Now we must be on our way. I cannot spend the day playing with you when a princess needs to be found." Without another word, he turned and replaced his hand on her back. Having no other ideas, she followed his lead.

As she came closer to the gates of the city for the second time that day, she paid more attention the the intricate carvings and colors around her. Within the city there was the sound of singing and laughter from men, women and children alike. It was odd for a city to seem so alive. From her experience of Minas Tirith, she expected the city a king would reside in would be ponderous and solemn. This was anything but. If she had to search for one word to describe the city itself, she would choose alive. It was not a something she would despair of. She had always found Minas Tirith to be somewhat stifling. She had always thought it had been a little wonder that it had driven her aunt to death and her uncle to insanity.

They continued up the hill together. King Éomer's gait never slowed, nor did he seem to tire from the walk itself. She was rather impressed, though she didn't know why she would be. 'He is a warrior of his nation. If he couldn't keep up a normal pace while ascending a hill without flagging, I don't know how he would maintain himself in battle.' Content with her thoughts at present, she continued studying the houses they passed. Nearly everything here was made from wood. If she had simply been told that, she might have first assumed that the people who had constructed such buildings were rustic barbarians as some Gondorians were inclined to believe. But seeing how the skill of not only the carvings but how the beams themselves had been shaped, she could see these people were as talented with wood as her ancestors had been with stone.

She had been so focused on the details surrounding her that she hardly noticed they had reached the top of the hill where the king's hall stood and a little below it were his royal stables. She took a few steps forward before realizing that King Éomer had halted. She turned her head and looked at him. He grinned at her kindly before beconing a stable hand.

"This is Flower Dancer. See to it she is stabled and groomed." He turned his attention back onto Lothíriel, "Hopefully our lost princess will be found before dark, but no matter the case, I will come back to check on you in the morning." He patted her neck once again before turning and marching up the steps to his hall. While he made his way into his home, she was turned and led away by the boy.

 **A/N: Poor Lothiriel! I hated making her do all that work for nothing! Although she's still pretty graceful, she hasn't quite gotten used to her new body. I hope you like her new name: Flower Dancer.**

 **I'll be posting more very very soon! I can't wait to see what unfolds for our trapped princess!**

 **Feel free to review and let me know what you thought!**


	6. Chapter 5: A Meal To Be Thankful For

Sunlight filtered through the stables as Lothíriel was placed – and locked – in a stall. She looked at the latch carefully, wondering how she would be able to undo the catch should the need arise. 'It seems that all the stereotypes about these people being true masters of horses is not an exaggeration,' she huffed slightly, 'but why do they have to be so good at keeping them locked up?' She turned a few times in her stall, thankful that she wasn't so large to be uncomfortable in the enclosed space. Once she had been settled, she examined the rest of stables outside her stall.

There were multiple pillars between each stall and a few others going down the center, holding up the peak of the thatched roof. The pillars by the stalls all bore carvings of horses and their various body parts – the most popuar among these was a horse's head. The center pillars were what intrigued Lothíriel. Each one seemed to depict a story that included a man or woman – it was somewhat hard to tell because nearly everyone in Rohan sported long hair – alongside a horse underneath a golden sun. While she didn't have the context of the stories within the carvings, she understood that it signified the strong bonds between a rider and their horse, something they were proud of as a people.

'At least I know that if I'm stuck this way forever, I'll be well looked after.' As she continued to ponder, the stableboy entered her stall, securing the latch with a loud click. That brought her full attention round to him. As she turned towards him, she saw that in his hand he held a bridle with a rope attached to it. She began to back away, only to bump into the wall behind her.

"Here, Flower Dancer," the boy held out a bright red, and rather juicy looking apple in his other hand. "Wouldn't you like a nice treat and brushing?" He didn't move from where he stood, waiting on her to approach him.

'You think you're so smart,' she looked to the bridle with distate, 'but I will have you know that I am a Princess of Dol Amroth and Gondor beyond! I will not be bound by some stableboy.' Her attention unconsciously shifted to the apple, but she forced herself to continue on in her displeasure. 'Well I will not fall for such tricks! As one who has been descended from Numenor, I shall win this battle of wills against you.' As if to counteract that inward statement, a pang of hunger pulled at her stomach and she caught herself looking at the apple again.

'Perhaps if I'm quick enough, I can steal the apple from his hand before he can begin to tether me to that…thing.' She took a tentative step forward, judging the stable hand's behavior. Nothing in him changed. That gave her hope that he wasn't paying attention. 'Maybe I can enjoy the apple a little bit before he catches on to what I'm doing.' She snickered inwardly at her own cleverness.

Quickly enough she reached down with her mouth and trapped the apple. In her hunger, the taste was pure ecstasy. The sweetness of the meat of the fruit and the juice combined into a taste that made her thankful to be alive. Just as she pulled away, the bridal was pulled over her face and strapped with surprising agility and precision to her head. She let out a snort in outrage. The stablehand chuckled and patted her neck gently.

"I know it'll take some time to get used to, but in time, it'll feel as natural as a second skin. Trust me." She gave another snort.

'At least this doesn't have some kind of bit.' She conceded to being led to one of the horse motif pillars as the rope was looped through a ring jutting out of the side. When the stablehand seemed satisfied with her constraints, he left, this time leaving the stall door opened. She looked at the opening with slight contempt. 'I was the one who entered here in the first place. And perhaps it's for the best. If I had stayed down in the camp, let alone the wild of this country, I would have been left to spend the night outside.' Just as she began to finish that thought, the stable boy reentered, this time carrying with him two buckets. One was filled with water and the other had some sort of grain. Both were poured into bins that hung a little under the ring that held the rope. She moved a little closer, inspecting them.

It didn't take long for her to realize that the grain was meant for her to eat. While part of her found the idea of eating such a meal was detestable, it seemed that eating the apple had done little more than whet her appetite, rather than fulfill her. 'I shouldn't be surprised. I am the size of a horse, so I can't pretend to have to eat like I'm the size of a girl.' Resigned to such a meal, she dipped her head inside and began to have her feast.

'I might as well pretend I have found some nuts and am feasting on them, like Amrothos and I did in Dol Amroth before the war.' The pleasant memory washed over her. She felt a soothing sensation running across her body. The sensation continued for several minutes until she finished eating. When she lifted her head, she turned it slightly to see that the stablehand had begun to brush her. It was a nice enough feeling that Lothíriel decided not to take offense at having her body touched so familiarly.

When he was finished with her back, he moved to her hooves, gently lifting them, picking out the dirt that lodged itself there. He didn't stop there. Pulling out a cloth, he dipped it into water and gently washed her face. Finally he combed out her lengthy mane and tail.

Lothíriel felt like a new woman, or rather, a new horse. It surprised her that over the course of the day, she had gotten so dirty, but now she was fully clean and comfortable. 'I suppose it also helps that I've finally filled my stomach.' She let out a loud, contented sigh.

"I knew you'd feel better after a good brush, didn't I?" The stablehand whispered into her ear. "Now, as lovely as you are, Flower Dancer, I have other duties to attend to." He removed the rope from her bridle before exiting the stall. "But don't worry, Éomer King has said he will see you in the morning."

 **A/N: Not a whole lot of action in this chapter, but I think you'll forgive me. The poor girl needed to eat something!**

 **Hope you're enjoying. Look forward to another chapter coming very soon!**


	7. Chapter 6: Confessions

Lothíriel's eyes snapped open as she heard a noise. By the light around her, she knew that it was night time. Sticking her head out from the stall, she searched the area and sniffed, trying to determine who – or what – had made the sound. Nothing else in the stable moved. The quiet around her was eerie. She could feel her ears rotating, searching for any sort of sound. When they finally found something to focus on, she gave it her full attention.

Standing before her was King Éomer. His sudden appearance stunned Lothíriel. He reached up and held out his hand. As if she had been called by something within her, she stepped forward, meeting his open, empty hand with her nose. He looked upset. 'What is the matter?' She stared at him, willing him to answer her unspoken question. Whether he knew what she wanted to know or he simply had been meaning to tell her without any bidding in the first place was beyond her. But he spoke quietly.

"We didn't find her. We spent all day searching for the woman who is meant to be my future wife and queen, and she seems to have disappeared into thin air." He sighed. "What makes it worse is to see how her family suffers while I can do nothing. I cannot help but wonder if she ran away from the thought of marrying me, one who would no doubt be considered a barbarian by most, and who never was meant for the throne of Rohan." He shook his head lightly, "I do not speak from a place of heartbreak, but perhaps a mixture of pride and self-doubt." He turned his attention back to Lothíriel before continuing, "Éowyn should have become the heir to the throne after Théodred died." He chuckled, "she was the one who spent all the time by our uncle's side, learning the court and other such things. I was always meant to be a soldier, protecting these lands with a spear in my hand, not a crown on my head."

Lothíriel's heart went out to the rohirric king as well as her family who no doubt were worried about her sudden disappearance. Focusing on the man in front of her she nuzzled his hand lightly. 'I don't think you're a barbarian. In fact, the only thing that I'm unsure about you is whether or not you can read. That can always be remedied anyways. You have shown yourself to be a decent host and I feel that your people love you as their king.'

"You're too kind, Flower Dancer." A smile pulled at one of the corners of King Éomer's mouth. She was surprised a little when she thought of him without his title, but eventually resigned herself that propriety didn't really matter so long as she remained a horse. As he continued to look at her, she studied his face in the moonlight. Now that they stood in the quiet, without all the business of the daytime, she could see the lines of sorrow etched within his brow. There was a hardness within his eyes that spoke of countless tragedies. So many seen and felt that part of him had been locked away. While she had never fully experienced it herself, she could sympathize after seeing so much sadness in the wake of the Ring War.

"Tomorrow, I must continue to search for the princess, but in the afternoon, I plan to take you out and see your capabilities. I checked the records, and you're not in them as either a Mearas or belonging to any of the breeders' herds. But you do not feel like a normal horse, even by Rohan's standards." The other side of his mouth pulled up and he gave a full smile. "You're quite the mystery."

'So are you.'

He shrugged, "Whatever you are, we will see the range of your capabilities tomorrow afternoon." He stepped away and Lothíriel felt a little bit of loss as he did. "Good night, Flower Dancer."

'Good night…Éomer.'

 **A/N: So originally, this chapter was going to go somewhere else entirely, but on a whim I decided that this would be a better fit for a comedy.**

 **Tomorrow should be busy but I'll do my best to post at least one chapter, if not the regular 2.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	8. Chapter 7: Lingering Doubt

Lothíriel awoke the next morning shortly before dawn. Around her, various rohirrim filtered in through the door, each going to a stall and preparing their horses for the day. The horses like Lothíriel who did not have a rohir was greeted and tended by the same stablehand from the day before. As the oats in her bin were filled, she thought briefly of turning her nose up at it, but after a few minutes, hunger and logic won over. Whil she ate, she watched as riders and horses interacted with each other, there was a strange feeling of loneliness as she stood by herself, waiting for her turn with the stable hand. By the time he did, most of the stalls had been emptied of their residents and the sun had already begun it's decent into a clear, blue sky. She stared longingly at it, feeling tired and alone. But there was one thing in particular that made everything worse.

Waiting as a horse was unbearable. She had always prided herself as a patient woman. During the war, she had been made to wait at home, waiting for her father and brothers to return from the field of battle, alive or dead. Even after the war, there had been times when she had been meant to wait for something. But she had always been able to have companionship in those times, whether they were with her family or simply a maid or two. Now, she had no one to talk to. No one to consol her in her new fate. Feeling anxious, she began to pace – as well as one could – in her stall.

'What are you doing?' She suddenly stopped her movement. 'You are a princess of Dol Amroth, no matter the form,' she snorted to herself, 'now behave like one. Stop feeling sorry for yourself!' She turned and ate a few more bites of the oats, washing them down with the lukewarm water beside it. 'You have food, a roof over your head and someone tending to you regularly.' She chuckled inwardly, 'Now that I think on it, being a horse is not so different to being a noble.' Outwardly, her laughter came out as a nicker.

The stablehand must have heard her because he came and checked on her for a moment before going back to his tasks. 'I wonder what his name is." she stuck her head out of the stall. She felt a bit ashamed that he had taken care of her twice in as many days and she didn't know it. 'Well it's not as if I have the voice to ask for an introduction,' she scoffed to herself. Thinking back to how she would have behaved as a princess, she doubted she ever would have spoken to the boy even with her voice intact. Erchirion had always said that her lack of inclination to know all who would serve her by name was a flaw. Perhaps that would be something worth changing about herself – if she ever was a princess again.

She thought back to her family. Her father had always been rather stoic, especially after her mother had passed away. She knew that he still loved her, but sometimes she would see his expression turn sad as he saw something that reminded him of his departed wife. Elphir filled been the doting eldest brother, nearly never home in Dol Amroth, but instead traveling from Minas Tirith to some battle with her late cousin, Boromir. Whenever he did return home, he would bring gifts from the places he had traveled, bringing with him the world she could not travel to see herself. Erchirion had always been her greatest critic. Instructing her on each and every one of her "flaws" in hopes that she would be a perfect princess. Something Gondor could truly be proud of. Amrothos was her playmate, friend and confidant. Although the had a large gap in the ages, he had always been willing to join her in any sort of mischief to be had, from pouring sawdust into the the cook's soup to running away for a day in the forest.

As she was still reminiscing of happier days, someone new entered the stable. It was odd how, without her seeing anything, she could simply sense a new presence. Peeking out of the stall she saw that it was Éomer. 'Is it afternoon already?' She glanced at the sky through the window, though it was hard to tell anything from that narrow passage.

"My King," the stablehand halted his work and bowed respectfully.

Éomer smiled. "Good day, Fréawine, has Firefoot been tended to already?" Lothíriel felt a little disappointed that he hadn't asked about her welfare first.

"Yes he has," Fréawine – she made sure to make a mental note of the name – answered, "as has Flower Dancer."

"Very good." He nodded as he stroked Firefoot's forehead. 'Nearly the same way he had touched me last night!' The disappointment was added to her already blooming discontent. "Take Firefoot into the corral," Éomer instructed, "I'll see to Flower Dancer myself." He turned away from Fréawine and pulled a lead from a hook in the wall. As he entered the stall backed away from him a little.

"Have I done something to displease you, Flower Dancer?" A half smile pulled at his mouth. "Come her and we will have a bit of exercise, hmm?" He held out the lead and Lothíriel pondered what would be worse, giving in or remaining in this prison cell. After a few minutes of deliberating, she stepped forward, allowing herself to be leashed with the rope. She followed Éomer out, though, due to her stubborness, she walked haltingly, causing Éomer to stop every few steps to coax her to move again. Eventually they reached the entrance of stables and Lothíriel stepped out into the sunlight. The feeling of all the empty space around her distracted her enough that she was easily led into the corral where Firefoot stood proudly, his dapple-gray coat shimmering in the light.

"Now," Éomer's voice called her to the present. "Lets see what you can do."

 **A/N: So I thought I would just go straight to the corral instead of drawing out the morning routine for many of the rohirrim within Edoras. I also wanted a chance to reflect on the different aspects of Lothíriel's family as well as her own stubborness when her pride has been wounded.**

 **Hope you enjoy this one! I look forward to hearing from you!**


	9. Chapter 8: Warming Up

Éomer stood several feet away from Lothíriel, holding the long rope attached to her bridle. With as much confidence as one would expect of the king of the horselords, he clicked his tongue. "Walk on." She looked at him for a few moments, looking at the rope in his hands. On the other side, Fréawine stood in a similar position with Firefoot, though Éomer's mount had no hesitation.

'What if I don't want to walk circles around you?' After a few moments of waiting, Éomer sighed.

"You'll feel better once you do." He chuckled, "Béma, you're a stubborn one, aren't you." Deciding that it couldn't really hurt to do as she was told, she turned and began to walk slowly. Whenever she got the else of the circle, she would feel the rope give a slight tug, pulling her back gently. She could feel her muscles stretch with each step. After being mostly stationary for so long, she had to admit that it felt wonderful. What made it even better was the open sky and sun above.

After a few minutes of walking, she felt better than she had since she'd first woken up as a horse. Éomer clicked his tongue and Lothíriel's instinct told her to go faster. She thought for a moment about being a little stubborn, showing Éomer that he should ask, rather than order, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

Easily, she moved into a trot. The movement felt different as a horse. As a rider, she'd had to essentially stand up in the saddle – a difficult feat in a side saddle – to avoid being jostled about, but as a horse, it felt similar to how she would skip about as a child before her governess could correct her. Not only was the exercise light, but she felt graceful and poised. She looked over to Éomer to see him watching her carefully. While there was some amusement on his expression, his look was mostly contemplative.

"She has a good gait." A familiar female voice called. Lothíriel spotted her as she turned within the edge of the circle. Éowyn was sitting in trousers and a legnthy tunic on top of the fence post of the corral.

"We'll know for sure once she starts running." Éomer clicked his tongue twice and called out, "Let's move, Flower Dancer." Lothíriel, feeling proud of herself from the praise picked up her speed. While the trotting had been exciting, the rush of the air past her face intoxicating. She had ridden in a gallop before, though as a human, she had never felt that rush as she had to maintain focus on not falling out of the saddle. Without that concern, she could simply enjoy the feelings that surrounded.

"She seems happy." Éowyn called out, "and you seem less troubled."

"Well I'm no longer worried that Princess Lothíriel is lost or dead in the middle of the plains." At the mention of her name, Lothíriel came to a sudden halt, drawing out a strange, questioning expression. She slowly began to walk again and Éomer shrugged, holding the rope loosely.

"I don't know what to make of her," Éowyn continued, "To have come all the way here, only to run back home in the dead of night, though she didn't take any of her father's horses. That speaks of both cowardice and courage, though perhaps instead of courage, it's just a sheltered ignorance that led her to make that choice."

"Whatever the case was, I'm glad that Haradric woman managed to find out her name so she could inform her family."

'Haradric woman?' She wondered what on earth they were talking about when an it dawned on her. The fortune teller – who had mysteriously disappeared right after their meeting – must have come and lied about Lothíriel's whereabouts.

"It's odd that she left no tracks, though I suppose a woman descended from a long line of elves could easily leave without disturbing the grass and ground around her." Éowyn stated with a shrug. "I don't see why it matters. With this little escapade, it seems she won't make a good wife for you, let alone a good queen of Rohan."

"It is a bit of a shame that things have gotten this out of hand. I thought from my friendship with Imrahil and his sons, and what I have seen of their character, it would be nice to at least befriend the princess, but it seems she has no desire for anything of the sort." Éomer shook his head lightly.

"I really feel bad for Imrahil, having to trek all the way back to Dol Amroth, waiting for either his daughter to arrive or word to be sent, saying she's been found." Éowyn sighed. "But enough of such things. Flower Dancer and Firefoot seem adequately warmed up, how about a race?"

 **A/N: A nice little chapter and some fun interactions between loving siblings. What is the fortune teller planning? Guess you'll have to wait and find out!**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	10. Chapter 9: Race on the Plains

The feel of the saddle on Lothíriel's back was strange to say the least. It was tight and secure. Nothing she did would remove it from herself. It was somewhat humbling to say the least. She had been surprised when instead of Éomer, his sister Éowyn had taken it upon herself to prepare her. Across from her, Éomer and Firefoot were preparing as well. Éowyn smiled to Lothíriel before securing leather reins to Lothíriel's bridle and leading her out to the middle of the corral. With the ease of someone who had done it all her life, Éowyn lifted herself up into the saddle, sitting astride on Lothíriel's back. This surprised Lothíriel and out of shock, she took a few steps forward.

"Steady, Flower Dancer." Éowyn spoke calmly. "Let's see how well we get on, shall we?" She gripped the reins enough that Lothíriel was conscious of them, but they were slack enough that she could easily move her head. Lothíriel could feel Éowyn's body shift forward slightly as she brought her legs out before bringing them back into Lothíriel's body, gently on her back legs. Lothíriel moved forward slowly. Éowyn's feet pushed in once again, this time along with a steady squeeze from her legs, urging Lothíriel to go faster.

"I think someone as lovely as you can go faster." Lothíriel liked being complimented, but wasn't really focused on Éowyn's commands. Instead she wondered after the fortune teller.

 _'What is her plan? Perhaps she realized she'd made a mistake and has come to help me change back to a human! No, if that was the case, she wouldn't have convinced everyone that I had run away home.'_ Over and over, she tried to make sense of it.

"I don't know if she trusts you quite yet." Éomer's voice called. He trotted beside Lothíriel and Éowyn from atop Firefoot. "There's less of an ease about her movements."

"Oh, rubbish," Éowyn sniffed, "We'll be well enough acquainted to beat you easily enough within the hour." She clicked her tongue and gave a little more pressure. Lothíriel allowed herself to focus on what she was doing, understanding that there was nothing she could really do, no matter what the fortune teller had planned. She began to move from a lope to full canter.

"See," Éowyn pulled to a stop and bent forward, patting Lothíriel gently on the neck. "She just has to get used to me, that's all." Lothíriel turned her head and glanced up at Éowyn. She liked the rohirric woman. She had a kind disposition, but by the way she held her seat atop her, Lothíriel could tell that she was a steady and steadfast person. The two of them continued together, practicing various stops, runs and turns for several minutes before Éowyn guided her out of the corral.

"Are you prepared to lose once again, little sister?" Éomer's tone was teasing.

"I don't know about that," Lothíriel began to walk down the hill, towards the gate of Edoras. Éomer and Firefoot walked at the same pace beside them. As they passed, some men and women began to whisper to each other and several left what they were doing and followed behind their king and his sister.

It wasn't long before they were out on the plains along with half the city, ready to witness their race. At some point, Éothain had joined them as well, though instead of stopping, he gave a knowing look before riding onwards until he nearly out of sight only to stop and turn around from atop his own steed. Another rohir stepped forward, coming to the space between the horses.

He stood straight and tall as his voice called out, "Ready," Lothíriel felt Éowyn adjust herself, preparing for them to take off. After that pratice and overall warm up, Lothiriel was ready too. "Go!" As soon as the shout was given Éowyn let out a yell and Lothíriel leapt forward, into the open air. She could feel her feet pound against the dirt and grass. The clear sky above and the speed she was running made her feel as though she were flying.

 _'This is what I've been missing all these years? I've been riding like a lady of Gondor rather than like a bird taking flight! Never again.'_ With that thought, her pace quickened and she let out a neigh of joy. Within moments the two of them reached Éothain and turned sharply, beginning their return to the city. Lothíriel could see from the corner of her eye that she and Firefoot were running neck to neck.

"Let's go!" She heard Éowyn's voice and Lothíriel pushed herself as she saw the ending point for their impromptu race. Just as suddenly as she had begun, Éowyn reined her in, slowing her. Lothíriel heaved, adrenaline coursing through her, feeding her elation when she heard the shout.

"Éowyn and Flower Dancer win!"

 **A/N: Hello all, sorry for not updating yesterday, one of the babies got sick so what time there would have been dedicated to writing had to be prioritized elsewhere. Hopefully I can pump out another chapter tonight, but if not, 10 will be here by tomorrow.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 10: Plans

There was a great cheer that sounded from the people who were witnessing. As they came to a stop, some came forward, holding out bits of carrot and apple. Pleased with herself, Lothíriel indulged in the treats. Éowyn dismounted from Lothíriel's back as Éomer trotted over. "That truly is a magnificent horse, to say the least. If only we knew where she came from." He stepped down from the saddle, allowing Firefoot to graze on the grass.

 _'Of course I'm magnificent, if only I could tell you of my lineage it would all make sense, I'm sure.'_ Lothíriel felt like showing off a little. She pranced around Éomer and Éowyn.

"I think she's rather proud of herself." Éomer laughed, patting her neck as she passed him again. She made her way towards Firefoot, gloating inwardly at her victory. He looked at her for a moment.

 _'Though I've only been a horse for a couple of days, I've beaten a charger like you.'_ She pranced some more before Éowyn came towards her, grabbing the reins right underneath the bridle.

"That was a good race," Éothain finally arrived from across the plains. "Flower Dancer and Firefoot are well matched, if I do say so myself."

"And they get along fairly well." Éomer's tone was contemplative. "Perhaps something may come of it."

"I'd be careful about that," Éowyn chuckled, "with both their proud temperaments, anything they produced would probably be a whole new kind of challenge." She stroked Lothíriel's forehead.

Lothíriel looked from person to person, trying to understand. _'What? How could anything like that occur unless,'_ She shuffled uncomfortably for a second as it dawned on her. _'Oh no you don't! I will not be some breeding mare! If I am to be stuck like this forever, I refuse to once go through that sort of behavior!'_ She began to pull away from Éowyn grasp, but the woman held firm.

"We had best be getting back." Éothain said, turning his horse towards the city. Lothíriel felt a bit relieved that the conversation regarding any possible breeding wasn't going to continue - at least not in her presence.

"Indeed," Éomer agreed, "We must prepare for the arrival of King Aragorn and Queen Arwen later today." He pulled himself into his saddle.

"I think I'll join you a little bit later," Éowyn pulled herself into the saddle. "I'd like to ride longer, and I believe it'll do Flower Dancer some good."

"Very well." Éomer nodded. He turned his attention to Éothian who nodded as well and rode up to Lothíriel and Éowyn's side. He held out a sword.

"I won't be later than the midday meal." Éowyn turned Lothíriel away and spurred her into a gentle lope.

The long, green grass all around them swayed with the breeze, the movement reminding her of the sea. Along the air, Lothíriel could smell something sweet. It took her a few moments to realize that the smell was coming from the span of yellow flowers growing closer with each step. They were the same flowers that she had used when Éomer had tried to guess her name, only instead of a cluster, there were hundreds – if not thousands – spanning the plains. The wind made them wave, but instead of reminding her of the ocean like the grass had, she felt like there was a lake of sunlight all around her. Éowyn slowed her to a walk, reaching down and brushing her fingertips along the yellow petals.

"I remember when my mother would bring me here." Éowyn spoke to herself quietly. "These flowers only bloom during the summer, so for the summer celebrations, we would braid our horses' manes with them and make garlands for our horse's necks." She dismounted, pulling Lothíriel along by the reins.

'They are lovely flowers. I've never seen their like.' Lothíriel sniffed them, enjoying the scent.

"I think that the yellow would be a perfect color for you." Éowyn stated. Lothíriel nickered in agreement, and Éowyn smiled. "It's decided then. I'll make one for you to wear during the celebration."

 _'Well, I may not be a known as Lothíriel anymore, but I'll get to wear my namesake.'_

 **A/N: And another chapter is done! This was some nice time between a pair of future sisters if I do say so myself.**

 **I'll probably have another chapter up within the next few hours, depending on how the day goes.**

 **See you then!**


	12. Chapter 11: The Arrival

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Éowyn and Lothíriel made their way back. On Éowyn's lap were a multitude of the yellow flowers. Lothíriel walked evenly, careful not to jostle the woman or her blooms. Due to their pace, they didn't reach Edoras for nearly an hour, but as they approached, Lothíriel spotted people on the southern horizon. Though she couldn't see the people clearly, the banner that were held showed a white tree on a black background. The King and Queen of Gondor, along with a large group of Gondorian nobility would be outside Edoras within the hour.

"Well," Éowyn declared, her tone jovial, "they're here a little early." She rode up the hill until they in front of the steps leading to Meduseld. A rohirric woman who must have seen the bundle of flowers offered to take them, and Éowyn happily gave them to her. "Please take them to my room." She swiftly dismounted and led Lothíriel into the stables. "After a ride like that, I suppose a rub down in called for." She began to undo the straps holding the saddle in place. "Aragorn and nearly the rest of Gondor will be at our gates before too long, and I suppose I should have a change of clothes as well, lest all us Rohirrim scandalize the Gondorian gentry," she chuckled to herself.

 _'They're really not so bad as all that, once you get used to them. Certainly, they prefer to be a bit polished and powdered than some people, but in the end, the Gondorian court has been held in esteem…by…well…Gondorians.'_ She paused in her thoughts, feeling slightly foolish that she's had such a narrow view on the world. _'Perhaps it's good I'm a horse, it gives me time to reflect on my follies without interference._ ' She sniffed to herself.

"I'm actually rather glad that the princess ran off to go home. Personally, I don't think that Éomer should marry any Gondorian. If I loved Faramir even an ounce less than I do now, I think I wouldn't leave Rohan for all the world." She laughed, "Though I'm at a disadvantage, I seem to fall more in love with him each day." She removed the blanket that had been between her bare back and the saddle. The cool air felt good on her back. "I think only if Éomer could love a Gondorian as much as I love my Faramir I would give my blessing."

Hastily Éowyn brushed Lothíriel's coat before tending to her hooves. After seeing her feed and water filled, she patted Lothíriel's neck before running out of the stables. Lothíriel wasn't alone for long. Minutes later she heard the clattering of hooves on the road outside before a few men and women made their way inside. The first two were the king and queen of Gondor. As they passed, Lothíriel felt her instinct as a princess kick in. She bowed her head respectively as they passed. The queen halted her forward motion and turned to face Lothíriel.

"My goodness. What an interesting mare you are." She gave a knowing smile. She reached out towards Lothíriel. The former princess stepped forward, placing her head against the queens upward hand. "I see you have had a difficult few days." She rubbed gently. Lothíriel felt relaxation course through her body at the elven touch.

"What is the matter with her, my love?" The king touched his wife's back gently.

"I'm not completely sure, to be honest, though there seems to be an anxiety within her." Lothíriel stared at the queen as she spoke.

"Perhaps Éomer will know more," the king assured his queen, "come along, my love." He led her out of the stables. Lothíriel bowed her head once more.

 _'I may not be a princess to them, but I will always be one in my heart._ ' She thought this just as two other Gondorian ladies entered, leading their own horses into the stables. Lothíriel recognized them almost immediately. They were sisters and both had quite the reputation within the Gondorian courts. The older was named Othil while the younger was Cidinneth. Both looked very similar with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. One might even mistake them for twins.

"Do you suppose it's always so sunny here?" Cidinneth handed the reins of her horse to one of the extra stable hands. She spoke sindarin fluidly and rather softly. If Lothíriel didn't have the ability of her horse ears, she doubted she would be able to overhear their conversation.

"Well one of the symbols of this country is the sun, so I'd warrant the answer to be yes." Othil smiled wryly, turning over her reins just as easily.

"Should you become queen of this country, I suggest you comission trees – large trees mind you – be planted with the goal of creating suitable shade." Cidinneth fanned herself lightly.

"Perhaps I shan't even become queen of this backwards country," Othil sighed. "Perhaps I will return to Gondor with my head held in shame at my failure."

"Come, come, sister," Cidinneth patter Othil's hand. "The only one who outmatched you in wit, wealth, and beauty has run away to Gondor, unwilling to face the prospect of being tied to this country no doubt."

"And what does that say of the country?" Othil laughed as they two exited the stables, taking the rest of their conversation with them.

' _I hope Éowyn is good on her word_ ,' Lothíriel gave a light shudder, ' _if Othil becomes queen of this country, then I weep for it's people and overall future._ '

 **A/N: And things are falling a bit more into place. I can't wait to see what our newest cast has up their sleeves. I tried to update yesterday, but whatever my youngest had the other day was passed around to the rest of us. I spent pretty much the whole day asleep in bed. Thankfully I'm starting to feel better and can write again!**

 **P.S.**

 **Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers out there!**


	13. Chapter 12: A Party Gathers

The next day went by with a festive air. Lothíriel calculated the days before concluding that the festival was a mere three days away. Although she was only a horse, she hoped that she would be able to see the festival in all its glory. A part of her felt like that would indeed happen because not only had Éowyn decided to make her a garland, but also the horses in Rohan were better treated than any other realm she had heard of. What's more, she'd witnessed their treatment. As a princess, it wasn't quite what she was accustomed to, but as a horse, she couldn't find a thing to complain of.

The stable doors opened, and with them, the noise of several people. "You don't have to accompany the king on his hunting party, my ladies. You just finished a long ride from Gondor."

"Nonesense!" Othil's too happy voice chimed. "Here in Rohan, isn't it a normality to ride each day, no matter how long the previous day's ride was."

"Hmm." The stable boy simply stated. He passed by Lothíriel's stall and she saw a multitude of people surrounding Éomer. Some of them were women of Gondor while others were men of Rohan. The final two to pass before her stall was Amrothos and Éowyn who were sharing a wry smile as though they had just shared some joke. Lothíriel stepped forward to greet her brother and Éowyn. As her head poked out, Éowyn smiled.

"Oh, it seems that she wants to depart with us." Amrothos chuckled.

"Perhaps she should." She stroked Lothíriel's chin gently, "and I would happily take her myself, if I was sure that Windfola wouldn't grow jealous of the attention. Though what of you? I know you only planned to see us off, but my brother's invitation to join in our hunt is still open."

"I am rather of a mind to see how this magnificent beast bears itself. And I did witness her race." He patted her forehead lightly. "Perhaps if the king approves?" Lothíriel looked up to see that Éomer had been watching the exchange.

"If you're prepared for her spirit, then I don't mind lending you the horse for our hunt. Only be careful not to be thrown." He turned his attention to Firefoot and prepared his stallion for the ride.

Amrothos let out a light laugh, "Trust me, unless she has as much spirit as my sister, I think I will be able to handle her quite well."

"We shall see." Éowyn walked over to her own horse.

 _'Perhaps I'll go easy on you, brother, since I wish to leave this stall and see the beautiful waves of grass again.'_ She nickered quietly, standing in the right position to be readied for saddle and bridle. It didn't take long before all sat comfortably in their saddles, ready for their hunt to begin. They walked out of the gates as casually as anything, but as they did, the rohirric people hailed their king. She could see that he would greet them in return. It was nice for Lothíriel to see a king who genuinely cared for his people. It was a quality she admired.

Once they were past the gates and on the open plains, the group started to go at a mild canter, though it quickly evolved into a joyful gallop. Amrothos was a good rider, to be sure, though he lacked some of the surety she had felt in Éowyn. It surprised her. Amrothos had always been the best on horseback among all the Amrothian children, though perhaps it spoke more to Éowyn's dedication to the ability. Lothíriel would just have to make up for what he lacked.

They galloped along for quite some time before coming to edge of a forest. Something inside her told her there was something wrong within, but she was urged forward by Amrothos as well as the rest of the party. Glancing from side to side, she felt like all the horses sensed what she had, a few were twitching anxiously, their tails swishing back and forth quickly. But, as she saw some of the other horses move forward as they had been instructed by their riders, she decided that the rohirrim would know what they were doing and followed along.

They passed between treed. The forest wasn't very dense, but Lothíriel did have to be careful not to run into anything. It wasn't long before a call was made by one of the rohirrim. The riders all sat straighter as their prey was spotted.

"Deer!" the man shouted and aimed him bow, just barely missing the target as it ducked behind a tree and bounded off. The rest of the company spurred their mounts forward, chasing the animal. Just as Lothíriel turned to join in the chase, she heard a loud, shrill scream.

 **A/N: Another day, another chapter. I'm really glad how quickly this story is coming together for me! I hope you guys are ready for the exciting next chapter I have planned!**

 **See you guys soon!**


	14. Chapter 13: Instincts

Lothíriel turned so quickly Amrothos had to fight to keep his seat. In the distance, Lothíriel could see a fair-haired woman running, in her arms she held a bundle tightly. Behind her was a large animal the like Lothíriel had never seen before. Something clicked within Lothíriel and she leapt forward, heedless of any danger to herself. She allowed her instincts to come over her as she wove between trees as if she had been doing it all her life. She suddenly felt lighter and burst forward with even greater speed. The woman had just entered a clearing when Lothíriel jumped over them.

From deep within her she let out a loud roar and reared back, kicking her front legs out. She was a bundle of anger and fear bundled up in the instinct to protect. She felt her hooves make contact with something as a searing pain tore through her side and belly. The claws cut through the leather straps and her saddle fell onto the ground with a thud. She shoved the feeling of pain aside and instead turned with all her weight and kicked with her powerful hind legs. Just as she turned, she saw that racing from what had been behind her was Éomer atop Firefoot, his sword glinting in the sunlight. With skill that must have taken years of practice, Éomer leaned down hard in the saddle, throwing his sword out to the side, slicing off the beast's head in a single lop.

The anger flooded out of Lothíriel and made way for relief, though it didn't last very long as she felt herself collapsing close to where the woman and what she now saw was a crying baby stood. Her side was wrought with pain and just as she started to close her eyes she saw that Éomer's expression had turned from that of a warrior to shock.

' _Perhaps it is somewhat shocking to see a horse run to danger unbidden than away from it._ ' She sighed as she felt an odd sense of cold. _'I must be bleeding. I remember some soldiers being frightened by the feeling of cold as they died.'_ Something else was odd. Her bridle felt like they didn't fit properly anymore. ' _It must have been torn too._ ' She felt a sense of calm as she continued to close her eyes. Then she suddenly felt something fall on top of her.

It was warm and scratchy. Reflexively she closed her hands around the material. ' _Hands?_ ' She opened her eyes in surprise and saw that indeed, as she lay on the ground, naked underneath a heavy cloak. Close to her head she saw tendrils of dark, gold hair hanging down. Just as she began to turn her head slightly, the sound of hooves from several horses thundered up.

"My lady, are you well?" Came Éomer's deep voice from above her, where the gold hair led. Somehow he felt distant.

"Lothíriel!" Amrothos cried, and she felt his footsteps against the ground, "What on-" he didn't get a chance to finish as Éomer carefully picked her up. The pain burned through her as if it was freshly cut and she screamed. He held her tightly enough to ensure that she did not fall from within his arms.

"Erkenbrand, ride swiftly back to Edoras and prepare the healers to aid Princess Lothíriel. Then send out a messenger to Imrahil to inform him on the whereabouts of his daughter."

"Yes, my king!" She heard a voice say calmly before the sound of hooves against dirt faded away into the distance.

"Amrothos, please ride behind Éothain. I will ensure that your sister makes it back to Edoras alive." Éomer's tone made it clear that his order was not up for discussion. "We must return with all haste."

How he had managed to get atop his horse with her in his arms, she doubted she would ever remember but there was a feeling of warmth and security once they were settled. He called Firefoot into motion. She finally managed to look up at him. While he was paying attention to the way ahead, he did glance down long enough to see her gaze on him.

"Worry not," she could feel his heartbeat, "we'll be back soon. Try to stay awake until then."

"It's nice to be able to properly meet now." She felt delusional and doubted he could even hear her. "It's ironic. I doubted that I would ever be human again, but at least being this way when I die will give my family some peace of mind rather than thinking I'm wandering the plains forever." She smiled to herself.

"You're not going to die." He didn't look down then, instead spurring Firefoot to go faster than before.

 **A/N: And now she's human again! Oh but what will happen next? I hopefully won't be too long before updating once again! I look forward to hearing what you think of Lothíriel's rapid transformation!**


	15. Chapter 14: Healing Hands

Lothíriel blinked her eyes sleepily, trying stay awake. She felt weaker with each passing moment. Her eyelidss were heavy and she was so cold that her teeth chattered lightly as she spotted Edoras approaching. It was odd now to approach the city on the back of a horse rather than by the power of her own body. She tried to shift to see her hands, but both Éomer's tight grip and the pain on her side restricted her movement. Erkenbrand must have been successful in warning the city of the king's hasty arrival, for the streets were clear of everyone, though some peaked out from the sides, a look of surprise coming over them once they saw Lothíriel, wrapped and held steadily on Éomer's lap. It took hardly a minute for Firefoot to reach the base of Meduseld. Éomer carefully dismounted, holding Lothíriel as delicately as he was able. Just as he did, the doors of the hall burst open and one man and woman in brown, loose robes came forward.

"My king, Lord Erkenbrand is not making any sense." Éomer walked past them as they followed with ease. "He said that this woman was a horse. Did he perhaps mean she fell from her horse?"

"It doesn't matter. She has deep cuts and needs to be treated for them right away." Éomer's voice boomed above her.

"Certainly Sire." The two nodded. Ahead of them, Lothíriel spotted Aragorn who hastened towards them.

"I have readied this chamber for her." The Gondorian king sounded calm as he ushered Éomer. As they entered the room, Lothíriel realized that the light that had dimmed as they entered Meduseld was bright with the sun shining brightly through a wide open window. In a way it reminded her of the houses of healing in Gondor. Almost always constructed so that no matter the time of day, there was always light to work by.

"I warn you, she is naked as the day she was born under this cloak." Lothíriel wondered if Éomer knew he sounded almost protective.

"I promise I am not some pubescent boy. I have treated both men and women in various states of undress in my time as a healer." She was laid gently on a cot. The motion hurt, though she didn't have the energy to cry out as she did when she was jostled before. "Besides, if she is injured the way Lord Erkenbrand mentioned, she'd have to be undressed anyway. Now, you need to leave."

"I don't think that is necessary." Éomer stood to his full height.

"You are not her husband to wait on her like this, and you are not her brother as you were when I tended to Éowyn." Aragorn's tone was firm but still kind. "I promise to send for you when I have any news."

Éomer looked like he was contemplating arguing before he huffed slightly. "Very well. I will be in the main hall." Aragorn nodded before turning back to Lothíriel. As the door shut, he carefully lifted the woolen cloak. Some of the blood had caked onto the fabric so as it was removed it tugged on the cuts. That pain was enough to rouse the energy for a scream. When she finally lay silent, Aragorn examined the wounds.

"They are deep, but not fatal. They will need cleaning, stitches, and a poultice in order to heal properly, though they will not impede anything once they have fully healed." Aragorn looked at Lothíriel's tear-streaked face. "You are very lucky, Princess Lothíriel."

One of the robed people pulled something from a long pocket. "I have this, it will dull your senses to the pain as we close the wounds." They waited for her to open her mouth before allowing a few drops of some solution to fall inside. It didn't take long for the drug to take effect. There was a silent relief within Lothíriel as the pain faded away.

She still felt tired and began to fade in and out of sleep, an odd pricking sensation along the cuts bringing her attention round each time she began to faint. It took her a while before she realized that Aragorn was stitching her injuries closed. He did it with such efficiency that she knew it was certainly not his first time sewing in this way.

She felt herself relaxing even further as the medicine took further effect. Without even realizing it, she began to close her eyes and sleep. It was little wonder that she dreamt of the long golden tendrils of hair tickling her face and of strong arms, holding her body close as they thundered over the plains.

 **A/N: Good morning! I was going to jump ahead in the story where Lothíriel was already laying in bed (post-medieval surgery) but then I figured I'd rather see how Éomer would handle bringing this surprise home. Thankfully Aragorn was already there in the wings, prepared to help heal one of his subject, am I right?**

 **The next chapter shouldn't be too far away. Thanks so much for the great reviews so far! Hearing from you all is very motivating!**


	16. Chapter 15: Confessions and Declarations

Lothíriel from a large bed somewhere she assumed was within Meduseld. The blankets were warm and soft against her skin. She could feel a long shift covering her body. 'Well at least I'm not naked anymore.' Her long hair was splayed over the pillows. She turned her head and saw Amrothos watching her. His forehead had a small lump that was surrounded with a rather impressive bruise.

"I see the mighty and courageous _Flower Dancer_ has decided to return to the realm of the living." He said, his tone sardonic.

"What on earth happened to you?" She tried to sit up, but the pain in her side screamed in protest, leaving her gasping against the pillow.

"In your headlong pursuit of horsey bravery, you ran me directly into a branch." He shook his head. "Thankfully I fell into some very soft thistles."

"That must be why I felt so much lighter towards the end of my run." She spoke contemplatively.

"What were you thinking?" Amrothos moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "You charged so heedlessly towards that creature, one might think you had a death wish."

"That wasn't it at all." Lothíriel shook her head, "When I heard and saw that –" she was cut off by a quiet knock on the door. It opened slightly and Lothíriel saw Éomer peek inside. When he saw Lothíriel awake, he opened the door more before stepping inside. Lothíriel didn't know why it surprised her that he had come.

"I'm glad to see you're awake. We were all beginning to despair it wouldn't happen." He smiled and Lothíriel felt stirrings within her heart. "Although the price that was paid was nearly greater than any of us could wish, you saved our lives by noticing that warg. Most are rather brutish and stupid but this one seemed to have been clever enough to sneak behind our party. Had we gone on, it most likely would have tried to kill us off, one by one until there were too few to fend it off properly."

Lothíriel chuckled. "I think you should really thank the woman who's scream called your attention to it, not me."

"What woman?" Both Amrothos and Éomer said together, looking from each other back to the bedridden princess.

"Perhaps Aragorn should examine you again." Amrothos felt her forehead.

"The transformation from horse to human must have put a great strain on you, my lady." Éomer's brow was knit together.

"Thinking of that," Amrothos returned to his chair. "How did you become that horse?"

Lothíriel blushed. "Do you remember the fair outside of Minas Tirith?" She waited for Amrothos' nod before continuing. "I went to see a fortune teller there and she told me that I needed to drink a potion to lead me towards a happy marriage." She glanced at Éomer and saw that his expression had changed to slight irritation. "The night before I…went missing, I went out to the plains and drank it, like I had been told."

"Of all the stupid, irresponsible things." Éomer's tone was scathing. "Did you even consider what could have happened to you."

"I didn't think I would become a horse." Lothíriel spat back, annoyed.

"After drinking some unknown _potion_ from an unknown person, I'm beginning to believe you didn't think at all!" With each word he grew louder and Lothíriel wished she could at least sit up in bed so she didn't have to be looking straight up at him.

"It worked out in your favor in the end didn't it?" She half shouted, half questioned.

"That is not the point! You were foolish to accept something so mysterious, and even more the fool for willingly consuming it!"

"And if you were told that if you didn't drink it, there would be a great tradgedy to occur?" Lothíriel ignored the remorse she had felt at her own actions as she continued to defend herself. "Perhaps the reason I'm human again is because that tragedy is no longer set to occur." She turned her face away before speaking the next words. "Besides, I didn't know you and wanted to ensure the life we might lead together would be happy and blessed."

"That's not something you need to be concerned of any longer." Lothíriel heard the door open. "Rohan is in no need for such a naïve queen."

 **A/N: And another chapter bites the dust. I somewhat enjoy the idea of Éomer stubbornly holding onto a grudge because he was made to worry about someone. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I don't really know how many more there will be. I think I'm letting Éomer and Lothíriel guide me more on this story than the other way around. Is that a little silly?**

 **Hope you enjoyed today's chapter. I'll see if I have time to post more. See you soon.**


	17. Chapter 16: Aftermath

"That went well, I think." Amrothos, who had remained silent throughout Lothíriel and Éomer's exchange commented into the silence. Lothíriel's face was bright red, though from embarrassment or anger she couldn't decide.

"Will you just help me sit up?" She snapped in irritation. This was not how she pictured the proper meeting between herself and Éomer as a human.

"Now there's no reason for you to bite my head off. It's not as if I'm the one who just declared you unfit to wife." She could tell that Amrothos was trying his best to maintain a serious expression. "Though I do have to admit that it is nice to see you've finally met your match in temper." He grasped her firmly under her arms, pulling her up in a swift, fluid motion. The pain screamed at her before she settled in the position.

"I think he liked me better as a horse. Isn't that just like a Rohir? It's probably for the best that he has declared me unsuited for the position of wife and queen." She huffed slightly. "With our tempers, we'd probably argue every day." Her shoulders sagged a little as she began to speak more to herself, "Perhaps that's why drinking the potion would mean I avoided the tragedy of an unhappy marriage with someone predisposed to arguing like I am."

"You really have changed if you can freely admit to your temper." Amrothos couldn't maintain his straight face any longer. He began chuckling though it quickly evolved into laughter.

"Oh, stop it" She gently slapped her brother's arm with the back of her hand, though she couldn't help but smile. Eventually the laughter died down and Amrothos looked at Lothíriel.

"Before you and the king went on your little tirade, I wanted to know why you really took that potion. You've never done anything so thoughtless before, at least not to my knowledge."

"I…I don't really know." Lothíriel glanced at the door as she spoke. "After the fortune teller told me that drinking it would be my only chance at happiness in the future, it _felt_ true. And besides, I had her prove that it wasn't poison."

"At least you weren't entirely foolish in this endeavor." Amrothos patted her head gently. The two sat in silence for a while before Lothíriel asked something she had been curious about since she'd first heard it.

"Now that you know what took place within me, will you tell me why you, and everyone believed that I actually ran home, on foot, without leaving any tracks."

"An elderly woman came to the encampment and asked to speak with Father. When they were together, she apparently informed him of your whereabouts. I don't know about him, but as soon as I heard from him, it was as if it all made sense and you really must have gone on alone back to Dol Amroth. Now that you're human again, I feel as though a veil has been lifted and I see how ridiculous it was to believe it."

"That fortune teller certainly has a gift." Lothíriel shook her head in disbelief. "To tell one person and still have everyone who heard it believe."

"Don't think on it for too long, little sister." He kissed her forehead before standing. "You're probably famished after only eating oats and hay for days. I'll see if I can fetch you something to tempt your appetite." He pulled the door open.

"Oh, Amrothos," she called after him, causing her brother to turn back and face her. She pointed to her forehead. "I don't think I apologized for running you into that tree."

"Think nothing of it. Despite how foolhardy it was, I'm glad that you faced the beast. I'd rather fall off a thousand saddles before letting myself become that beast's lunch."

She heard the latch click into place before turning away from the door. Looking around the room from a seated position changed the feeling. She wished the drapes on the windows had been pulled back, but that was only a matter of time, she was sure. The room was spacious, though not to the standards of the Gondorian court. Lothíriel rather liked it. Anyways, it was an improvement to the size of a horse stall. A single trunk sat in the corner of the room, not far from her bed. It bore the horse insignia that she had come to expect on most things. She wondered if there was anything inside the trunk or if it lay empty, ready for things to fill it.

She was still inspecting the craftsmanship on the chest when there was a knock on the door. "Is that the food already?" She thought to herself. "Enter." She spoke the word loud enough that even from the bed she could be heard clearly. The door opened and instead of some maid carrying a tray of tempting treats, stood Éowyn.

 **A/N: Hooray! After an insanely busy day I finally was able to sit down and write this chapter out. I hope this answers some of your questions. Next chapter should have some fun interactions. Look forward to it!**

 **I've really been enjoying reading your reviews! Glad you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am!**


	18. Chapter 17: Surprises

"Oh," Lothíriel felt somewhat stunned as she saw the blond woman enter the room, "I'm afraid I wasn't expecting…company."

"I'm nothing of the sort," Éowyn shrugged, a good-natured grin in place. "I thought I'd just come check on you after hearing that you woke up." She stopped her approach right before the bed. "And I thought I ought to come and apologize to you."

"Whatever do you have to be sorry to me for?" Lothíriel's brows came together. "I haven't been human – let alone awake – long enough for you to offend me."

"I feel that I came to a rush judgement," Éowyn looked somewhat sheepishly around the room before settling her gaze back onto Lothíriel. "I thought very ill of you and your courage when I thought you had run away from Rohan and a future with my brother."

"It was never official," Lothíriel smiled, trying to reassure the woman. "Besides, it's not something to be very concerned of. In a way, my actions were cowardly. And in the end it has done nothing but cause your brother to think me a fool and unworthy to stand beside him here."

"Éomer just doesn't like seeing people he feels are under his care to be harmed." Éowyn gave a small chuckle. "You should have heard how he laid into me after the batter at the Pelennor Fields. I could hardly stop my ears from ringing for weeks."

Lothíriel laughed at the idea. "Perhaps, but you are his sister. As a sister myself, I know that my brother's – no matter the trouble I cause them – they must forgive me."

"So this is not the only troublesome thing you've done?" Éowyn took a seat on the edge of the bed and Lothíriel could see a playful glint in her eye. "That is good. Rohan needs someone who can bring a bit of silliness and trouble to it. My brother may be a hot-head, but he attends this kingdom with as much order as any other soldier would. It can make things a bit dull sometimes."

"I'm certain that a dull kingdom right after a difficult war is something most people would enjoy." Lothíriel looked at Éowyn curiously. "Besides, I already said, your brother will have nothing to do with me after this fiasco."

"Of course, of course." Éowyn waved her hand dismissively. "Have you been told how long you're to be in bed? I know you've seen some of Edoras and the surrounding plains, but I rather like you, and I think I should show you a few hidden spots."

"I don't know," Lothíriel gingerly touched her side, "these are still rather painful, and I haven't seen any healer since I've awoken." As if mentioning a healer summoned one, the door opened. A familiar woman in a long robe stepped into the room, muttering to herself. She stopped as she looked up and saw Éowyn sitting with Lothíriel.

"Oh, my lady, so good to see you." Her rohirric accent was thick as she spoke Westron, "Éomer King mentioned that you had come to and I thought it would be a good time to check you."

"I am thankful for the aid you provided me." Lothíriel spoke clearly in rohirric, hoping to put the woman at ease. The healer blinked for a second before breaking out into a broad smile and shaking her head.

"Nonesense, my lady, the King of Gondor was the one who performed his skill as a healer, I mostly stood back and watched. But I can check you now. Lady Éowyn if you don't mind stepping outside for a few moments –" She nodded her head respectfully.

"It is fine," Lothíriel glanced at Éowyn, "So long as Lady Éowyn is comfortable, she is most welcome to stay."

"If you wish." The healer stepped forward and carefully untied the back of the shift, loosening it enough around the top so as to slip down until the area her wounds were lay under a poultice. She pulled the extra layer off, exposing the sliced skin "These are nearly healed!" Her tone made it clear that she was surprised. "I must say, the elven healers and those taught in their ways are miracle workers." She shook her head as if somehow it would bring about sense. "You've been asleep a single day and yet your wounds look as though you had received them at least a week ago." She lightly touched the cuts. "These may not even leave much in the way of a scar. Truly something marvelous." She muttered to herself.

"That's wonderful news!" Éowyn clapped.

"Indeed it is," Lothíriel agreed. "I've never been one for a sick bed. How long do you suppose it will be before I can be up and about again."

"If you continue on this way, I would think you should be able to attend the summer celebration tomorrow night, though I would only be up for that bit and after that, take things gently until you're completely healed. From what I've heard, this is only the latest in your ordeals."

"Hmm," Lothíriel gave a knowing smile. She was glad that she'd be able to attend the festivities, though she also knew that she lacked a great amount of strength and as such, she would require some sort of aid while she was up.

The healer pulled a pungent pouch from her pocket and placed it against the wound. The cooling sensation soothed any irritation that had occurred during the inspection. Using some linen gauze, she secured this new poultice around the princess' side. "Lady Éowyn, since you are hear, help me lay her down." Éowyn easily obliged and quickly enough Lothíriel was laying, her head against the pillows again.

"I have food coming." Wouldn't it have been better to eat before laying back down.

"Don't worry," Éowyn said and took a seat on the vacant chair Amrothos had been sitting in not even an hour before. "I'll see to it you are properly fed." The healer nodded and gave another smile before bowing to Éowyn and Lothíriel.

"I will be back to check on you later in the evening." Éowyn lifted her hand to bid the healer farewell before turning back to Lothíriel.

"I am liking you more and more with each passing minute. You speak rohirric as if you had been born and raised here!"

"Dol Amroth is a very lovely place to live, but when you long to explore the world but you are only a princess who hardly knows how to defend yourself, you find other ways."

"I think you and I are going to be very good friends, Lothíriel." Éowyn smiled. "Tell me more of your… _explorations_."

 **A/N: I've always like Éowyn and thought she would have something of a mischievous streak within her. I mean, it takes someone who has enjoyed the fruits of subterfuge to disguise oneself as a man and fight among the other warriors in a war, don't you think?**

 **I hope you enjoyed this little chapter of bonding from these lovely ladies. Hopefully tomorrow won't be too busy so I can post a few more chapters before the day is out. But for now, I bid you all a good night and see you next chapter!**


	19. Chapter 18: An Invitation

Lothíriel blinked up at the ceiling as she heard a knock on the door, waking her from her dreamless sleep. The previous day had been enjoyable, especially after Amrothos had returned from his journey to the kitchens. Together with her brother, Lothíriel had told Éowyn some of her misadventures in Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith. In such company, the time had passed quickly before the healer had returned and declared that Lothíriel should sleep.

Now, growing more awake with each passing moment, Lothíriel found some of her strength had returned. She pushed the blankets off of her before pulling herself – someone gracelessly – to a stand before making her way to the door. Pulling it open she glanced out before letting out a short gasp. Just outside the door stood Éowyn accompanied by Éomer. Before Lothíriel could say anything Éowyn stepped forward.

"Good morning," she chirped in rohirric. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better." She added in Westron.

"Good morning," Lothíriel repeated the rohirric greeting before reaching for a shawl hanging on a chair. She reached a little too far and her body gave a spark of pain in protest to the stretch, causing her face to grimace from the pain. For a brief moment, Lothíriel thought she saw Éomer's face change. 'Is he concerned? Surely not. I must be imagining things.' "What are you doing here?"

"The festivities are about to begin and Éomer is going to be joining me, but I thought before we go, I might see if you were fit enough to join us." Éowyn smiled.

Lothíriel glanced up to Éomer, trying to gauge his reaction, but when she was unsatisfied she gave a small shrug. "I am feeling better, but I have yet to be dressed for such activities. Besides, the healer needs to check my wounds again before anything. Surely you will enjoy yourselves more without having to wait for me to ready myself." Éowyn's face showed her disappointment.

"That's unfortunate," she sighed lightly, "after yesterday, I was looking forward to showing you around."

"Once I am ready, I have every intention to see the festival. Should you still be about when I do, I can join you then, so long as you still have the mind to lug around a rather slow, and naïve princess." She saw Éomer's cheek twitch though the rest of him remained determinedly stoic.

"That is a fine idea," Éowyn nodded. "We will make sure to keep an eye out for you." She pulled on Éomer's arm. He complied with his sister's direction, nodding once to Lothíriel.

Lothíriel shut the door, leaning on it for a few moments. 'I don't know what to make of that man! First he's kind and gentle, then he is rude and declares I'm unfit to be queen, then he shows up with his sister and behaves indifferently?' She shook her head and stood up straight, making her way silently to her bed.

She wasn't there for long before another knock on her door sounded, though it opened before Lothíriel could stand. The healer and her maid, Calarel, walked into the room, greeting the princess quietly.

"It's good to see you up, my lady." Calarel was carrying a dark green dress that Lothíriel briefly remembered packing. "We passed Lady Éowyn and King Éomer on our way and they mentioned that you would be joining them later?"

"I would advise that you not push yourself too hard this morning, my lady." The healer pulled off the poultice once the nightdress had been removed. "Your wounds have completely closed, though too much strain and they may reopen." She stood and handed a small vial to Lothíriel. "If you in too much pain, drink some of this and return to bed quickly."

"I will be careful, I promise." Lothíriel nodded to the healer, taking the offered vial. The healer smiled before leaving the room. Lothíriel turned to face Calarel directly. "And I think I'll see to having something to eat before making my way outside. While I'm more than eager to join Lady Éowyn, I would hate to any discomfort to the king by being present." She couldn't help but feel a bit petulant as she spoke the words.

"Nonesense, my lady." Calarel began to pull the green dress over Lothíriel's head. "I doubt any man would find being in your presence to be a discomfort unless you planned on being one ahead of time."

 **A/N: Hooray, another chapter bites the dust! So happy to have received a few reviews from you guys, glad that my story has been entertaining thus far! I'm actually really surprised that it's been taking so long to finish. When I first started this, I was expecting it to take 10-15 chapters to come to a decent conclusion, but the characters are taking their time.**

 **The next chapter shouldn't take too long to write out, so see you soon!**


	20. Chapter 19: Confrontations

The dining hall was mostly empty when Lothíriel entered, though she could see some people sitting at tables, talking with each other over a light breakfast of bread, cheese and fruit. Not feeling very sociable, she put together a plate with enough to take away the edge of her hunger before finding a place at an empty table near the entrance. From her seat she could see outside and through the opening she could hear the boisterous conversations all melding together. As she stared absently, a familiar scent caught Lothíriel's attention. She groaned inwardly as Othil and Cidinneth stepped over the open threshold. The two women noticed Lothíriel immediately and began to walk towards her.

"Princess!" Othil's voice was somewhat shrill and a bit too cheerful. "I am so happy that you are well. After hearing of your ordeal and how scandalously you returned to your, er, true form, we feared that you would hardly be fit to rejoin society for some time."

'Just what would have benefitted you.' Lothíriel had spent enough time in the Gondorian court to hide her reaction. Instead she returned the smile, though it was a cold. "It's always nice to hear that some news has added to a friend's joy." She spoke, her tone dismissive. Whether the sisters didn't realize the intention or chose to ignore it, Lothíriel didn't know, because they took a seat directly across from her.

"Truly I can't think of how mortified I would be to have been carried back across the fields of a foreign country by a foreign, unmarried king with nothing but a cloak surrounding me." Cidinneth reached across and took a small piece of fruit from Lothíriel's plate.

"When you are bleeding and in pain, there are other things on ones mind." Lothíriel sat back, choosing to ignore the meal. Othil nodded, her face a mask of sympathy.

"Of course you were. It's such a good thing that King Éomer was able to whisk you back here to Edoras before you had died." She placed her hand over her mouth delicately. "Oh the thought just causes me to shiver!"

"Then think it no more." Lothíriel worked to maintain her pleasant expression.

"You know he was so anxious as you were being tended to, one might have thought that there was an agreement between the two of you." Othil spoke quietly, "Though I've heard it declared that there is nothing between the two of you."

Some sort of pang resounded within Lothíriel but she managed to suppress it, instead choosing to stand. "We have no agreement between us, now if you ladies will excuse me, I would like to see some of these festivities for myself."

"Don't bother," Cidinneth chuckled, "we thought to explore the events and stalls but most everything is so rural and cheap that anyone of fashion would find themselves quite bored."

"Perhaps that is true and perhaps not,". Lothíriel turned away from the sisters, "but all the same, I wish to see them for myself. Good day." She walked as quickly as she could without causing pain in her side.

It didn't take very long for her to step out into the sun and see multitudes of rohirrim bustling around. Some were sitting in circles singing songs or weaving tales – though most were a combination of the two. From her place atop the hill she could see that outside of Edoras there were races and other competitions occuring. 'Perhaps had I remained a horse I could have raced and won in such competitions.' The thought made her chuckle.

"Is it so _rural_ and _cheap_ that it warrants being laughed at?" A deep voice spoke from behind her. Lothíriel turned around suddenly to see Éomer. The motion brought the brunt of her pain to the surface. 'How long has he been standing there?'

Taking a moment to compose herself she took a deep breath and shook her head. "Not at all. I've been looking forward to witnessing these celebrations for quite a long time. I am simply glad I wasn't made to miss it." Éomer's hard expression softened in slight surprise.

"Well, I am glad you are able to participate as is your wish." He nodded.

"Where is Éowyn?" Lothíriel looked around, searching for her new friend.

"She instructed me to wait for you while she fetched something for you outside the city and then escort you there." He gave a slight smile. "I think she believed you would have not joined us earlier if you were not properly encouraged."

Lothíriel chuckled, "She may have been partly right. I had intended to wander about before adding myself to any particular party." She blushed slightly, "Besides, I don't want there to be any sort of awkwardness between us when we should both be enjoying the beautiful day."

"Hmm." Éomer's expression was thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, Lothíriel decided to lighten the mood.

"I'm actually somewhat surprised you did wait for me. What sort of king follows the orders of his people, let alone his sister?" She grinned up at him.

Éomer seemed surprised again at the question but quickly understood that she was teasing him. "What is a king if not a servant to his people, and beyond that, what is a brother meant to be if not to be directed by his sister?"

"That is something to ponder on, I'm sure." Lothíriel shrugged. "You may escort me if you'd like, though I still intend to wander about before joining your sister." Éomer nodded, his expression returning to the determined stoicism it seemed to adopt regularly.

"Lead on, Princess."

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed these little exchanges. I realized as I was writing this that I am not very good at writing passive aggressive banter. Hopefully it came across well.**

 **Let me know how you liked this and I should see you all very soon in Chapter 20!**


	21. Chapter 20: Haggling

Lothíriel meandered down the street slowly. Éomer walked behind her, greeting everyone they passed. While most of those people greeted Lothíriel as well, some would stare at her with a strange expression. She would have thought on it more had they not come across several stalls lining the main road.

"My lady," one of the vendors called out, catching Lothíriel's attention. "I have many fine wares for you to see." He held out a few carvings and pointed to colorful shawls.

"These are beautiful," Lothíriel whispered as she inspected one of the figurines. She was not surprised that the imaged depicted was a horse but the detail on the creature was astounding. It was rearing back on it's powerful hind legs, it's tail and mane billowing in the wind. Each muscle was perfectly carved to the point that had Lothíriel not known better, she might have thought some magic had frozen a real horse. She reached out and touched the wood, though it was smooth as butter. "You are truly a master of your craft. I love this, though I don't believe anything I could do with it would do it justice."

"Many thanks for such high praise, my lady." The vendor bowed slightly, his grin growing. "I have other things as well if you would care to look?"

"Of course." Lothíriel nodded. The vendor pulled out a simple, smooth box. He opened it and she saw something she had never seen the like of in Gondor before. Tiny pendants, rings and bracelets all made of wood and polished until they gleamed like marble lay in place. She picked up a bracelet and held it up to the light. All along it tiny carvings of the yellow flowers that Lothíriel had seen as a horse. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she ran her fingers over the carvings.

"You have a very fine eye, my lady." The vendor waited for Lothíriel to place the bracelet down. "That is the rudbeckia, a symbol of pride to our people, though less seen in our regular carvings."

"It is truly lovely." Lothíriel couldn't stop herself from touching it again. "How much is it?"

"Three silver pennies." The vendor's tone turned from salesman to haggler.

"Surely not!" Lothíriel gasped, "I cannot believe that something like this is three pennies!" She could feel Éomer stiffen behind her.

"I believe it to be a fair price, lady."

"I don't!" Lothíriel put her hands on her hips. "For something like this, which I imagine must have taken a great deal of time and effort to make as perfectly as you have, I would pay two gold castars." The vendor's eyes bulged as she named her price and behind her, to her surprise, she heard Éomer laugh.

"In all my years, I don't think I've ever seen, let alone heard of, anyone haggling to increase the price of what they are buying." His guffawed laughter brought attention.

"Well I've never come across anyone who undervalues themselves so much as to only ask for a few pennies!" Lothíriel rounded on Éomer, lifting her chin stubbornly into the air.

"Lady," the vendor's voice was a bit shaky as he spoke. "Most people cannot pay for my wares if I were to charge so much." This calmed Lothíriel somewhat as she turned away from Éomer who was working to stifle his laughter.

"Of course, but perhaps you'll accept a higher price for the bracelet." She smiled using every bit of her charm. "You wouldn't say no to a princess, would you."

"I…um….well…" The vendor shuffled nervously for a few moments before sighing. "If that is what you wish to pay for my work, I appreciate your patronage."

"Wonderful," Lothíriel opened her coin purse before handing over the two coins. The vendor handed over the bracelet, shaking his head with a smile. Lothíriel returned the smile before turning away. As she walked, she noticed that Éomer was no longer walking behind her but to her side. Though he was no longer laughing, he still looked amused.

"I believe you are the worst haggler I've ever come across." He said lightly as they walked.

"Perhaps I'm simply too naïve." She said before letting out her own short laugh.

 **A/N: Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed that little exchange. I'm sure the vendor did (haha)! I should be posting another chapter later on today, so look forward to that!**

 **See you soon!**


	22. Chapter 21: Songs and Skills

Lothíriel could hear festive music coming from within the tent Éowyn was supposed to be inside. If she were fully healed, she probably would have entered with a bit more jump in her gait but she supposed she'd have to be satisfied with simply acknowledging the liveliness of the music. There was a similar feeling of unhindered joy among each of the rohirrim. As she pulled back the flap she saw Éowyn standing with the musicians, singing happily, she had even begun to twirl a bit until she saw Lothíriel and Éomer. The musicians tumbled through a halt as they acknowledged their guests.

"I'm so glad that you could come!" Éowyn rushed forward, hugging Lothíriel tightly.

"Gently!" Lothíriel squeaked. Éowyn immediately released her with an apology. After taking a few seconds to collect herself, she looked at the group of musicians. "The music was lovely, I'm rather sorry I interrupted."

"It's in preparation for when the sun begins to set in preparation for the night's festivities." Éowyn bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. "Would you like to join us for the song, I'm sure that you'd be welcome to do so." Éowyn's gaze shifted, "What do you think, brother."

"I don't believe the rohirrim would have any issue with someone as lovely as the princess joining you in song." Éomer crossed his arms. Lothíriel looked at him in shock.

'Lovely? This man runs hot then cold then hot again, doesn't he?' Then she realized what he was saying and she shook her head vigorously. "They wouldn't mind I'm sure, at least until I opened my mouth."

"Oh come, you can't be so bad." Éowyn took Lothíriel's hand.

"I can." Lothíriel chuckled. "If I were to sing, you most likely would think I had turned back into a horse." She laughed at a thought, "Then I'd never be able to get you to stop calling me Flower Dancer and comparing me to your stallion." Her laugh grew louder as something she hadn't expected at all to happen did indeed happen. Éomer's face grew the tiniest shade of pink. 'I made him feel flushed!' She thought triumphantly as she tried (and failed) to stifle her laughter.

"Well give us a demonstration," Éomer's voice was hard and his body had tensed slightly after being laughed at.

"Oh no, no no." Lothíriel raised her hands. "I save that skill only for situations where I am being attacked by orcs or bandits. I have yet to see if it would work yet, but I'm fairly sure it'll send them running for the hills." She heard Éowyn laugh as she finished.

"Well, you ought to do something." Éowyn said after finally calming herself enough to finish a sentence. "The rohirrim believe that one can't have a full experience of something unless you've participated."

"I would dance if I were not injured, but alas, I must refrain myself to simply watching." Lothíriel shrugged. There was a moment of silence among the group as no one knew how to answer.

"Is anyone hungry?" She heard Éomer ask awkwardly. "There's a food and ale tent close to where the final races and archery matches will be taking place at midday." Lothíriel felt relieved that the question seemed to diffuse any uncomfortablity among the rohirrim.

"Food may be a good idea. Especially since you have to preside over the final contests as king." Éowyn seemed to catch on to what her brother was doing and took Lothíriel's hand, leading her out of the tent. Lothíriel's stomach planged in anticipation as she remembered her unfinished meal back in Meduseld. It took a while for the group to navigate through the crowds before arriving at the specified tent. As soon as they sat down at an empty table, a cheery woman with fiery red hair came towards them.

"My king, my ladies and sirs," she spoke in rohirric, looking at Lothíriel apologetically. "We are serving sheperd's pie. Also, if someone could tell the Gondorian lady," she smiled at Lothíriel, silently apologizing again, "that we only have ale to drink, and no wine, I would be grateful."

Éomer nodded to the woman before turning to Lothíriel. "I'm afraid that –" He began in Westron when Lothíriel cut him off.

"I love sheperd's pie,". Lothíriel spoke in clear rohirric, meeting Éowyn's gaze for a moment and recognizing the playful gaze within. "While I am well versed in Gondorian wines, an ale sounds like something that would taste wonderful along with the meal." The woman stared at Lothíriel for a moment before nodding and rushing off to deliver the promised food. Lothíriel turned her gaze over to Éomer to see his shocked expression.

"You speak our language?" He asked.

Lothíriel threw her hands up and looked to the sky. "Everyone seems to be shocked by that!" Bringing her eyes back down she looked across the table, directly into Éomer's eyes, her gaze challenging him. "Do I really look so stupid that it should be such a surprise?"

 **A/N: Something I've come to realize is that just about every iteration of Lothíriel I've read about was very accomplished as a princess and this included the ability to sing like a songbird. Well if you remember that Erchirion highlights some (most) of Lothíriel's faults, I figured the one of those "faults" would be his sister's inability to sing properly.**

 **Just a though. Also, side note, really enjoyed writing this banter. Hope you enjoyed reading it!**


	23. Chapter 22: Indignation

Éomer looked so baffled by Lothíriel's question, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. She heard Éowyn giggling beside her before speaking.

"Oh brother," Éowyn sighed, "in a combat situation you are at your peak, but with Lothíriel here, you seem to have met your match."

"I don't see what you mean." Éomer chose to look away from Lothíriel as he spoke to his sister. "I merely didn't realize that I had offended the princess."

"Well," Lothíriel sat a little straighter in her seat, "in the interest of not being underestimated, I will disclose to you some of my skills." She leaned forward with a small smile. "Along with speaking Westron and all the elven tongues, I am also fluent in Khuzdûl, conversational Haradric, and Rohirric – as you just saw – as well as being able to read old Adûnaic texts." She leaned back, watching as Éomer's face studied her. She felt a bit of satisfaction at surprising the indomitable king.

"I wonder, if after everything that has occurred between us, this boasting is made in an attempt to impress me." Éomer spoke under his breath. Lothíriel coughed in surprise.

"Impress you!" She stood, standing over him by a few inches. "I have no need to impress you or anyone here." Her tone grew more formal. "I am Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth and Gondor. If indeed you are impressed it can be little more than expected." She stared down at him with a cool expression for a few seconds before sitting with a huff. "Impress, how absurd." She mumbled.

"Why else would you choose to boast of your intelligence?" Éomer queried. "It's true that in Rohan honesty is valued, but actions are what truly rules the day here, not pointless preening and boasting. And if it were in the aims to secure yourself a husband –" Lothíriel held up a hand, cutting off Éomer.

"Before you get ahead of yourself, know this. I am the daughter of a wealthy prince in a peaceful nation. Not only that, but I have three older brothers who all are rather fond of me if I were to believe their claims. I have no need to find myself a husband, and even if I did, I would not force myself on anyone by flattering myself or by producing claims I could not act upon." She could feel her face heating along with her indignation. "Do not think yourself so mighty and irresistible to look down your nose at me, _sire_!" She stood again and this time she stepped away from the table and marched off.

"I was right, you've met your match," she heard Éowyn say behind her. Lothíriel didn't pay her any mind, instead choosing to march on. The pace she set was faster than she probably should have, because it wasn't long before her side began to ache. She slowed a bit and eventually she passed the gate of Edoras.

The road up leading to Meduseld looked uncommonly steep in her tired state, so she instead elected to lean on a nearby building until she caught her breath. She was only just starting to feel better when a group of men were passing by. They staggered and swayed so much that Lothíriel could tell immediately that they were drunk. She tried to make herself smaller so they could move past her, but it seemed impossible as soon as one of them noticed her.

"Good day, mistress." One of them hiccuped. He came closer to her until Lothíriel could smell the alcohol on his breath. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?"

"She probably got lost in the city and is waiting to be found by her party." The second slurred through the words making it seem as though it wasn't a sentence he had spoken but a single, very long word.

"We could keep you company in the mean time." The third, and final man grinned.

"That's unnecessary gentlemen, I simply –" Lothíriel stated, scooting along the wall towards the open road. The first man put his hand against the wall, cutting off her escape.

"Gentlemen?" The first laughed heartily. "You heard that? Guess we're upright men according to a Gondorian wench."

"Now see here," Lothíriel tried again before being cut off a second time.

"Don't be cross with us mistress," the second chuckled. "We just don't think it right and proper to leave a little thing like you alone on such a day as this."

"She is not alone." Lothíriel felt relief as she heard Éomer's commanding tone and the three men turned suddenly. In their haste, two of the three drunkards knocked each other over and tumbled to the ground. The one left standing bowed in a swaying motion.

"Éomer King!" He followed the title with a belch though his face reddened in embarrassment. "We meant no disrespect."

"Surely," Éomer had his arms crossed over his chest. "Take your friends and dip your heads in a trough. If you are so drunk this early in the day that you think it wise to corner not only a woman but a guest at that, then perhaps you've had too much than is good for you." The men nodded and scurried off towards what Lothíriel hoped was indeed a water trough.

"Thank you for your assistance, but I could have managed." Lothíriel pursed her lips.

"As I saw." Éomer dropped his arms. "Why are you standing against this house?"

"I was out of breath for a moment, that's all." Lothíriel waved her hand dismissively. "You should go back to your sister and the other festivities. I'll just head back to Meduseld and rest before the end of the day."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Éomer sounded concerned.

"I'm fine, truly." She pushed herself away from the wall and an involuntary grunt escaped her throat, belying her words. In a smooth motion, Éomer stepped forward and scooped Lothíriel up in his arms. "What are you doing?" She looked up at him in shock.

"It would be dishonorable for me, as your host, to not make sure you made it to my hall without further injuring yourself." He stepped out of the shade of the building and began to walk steadily up the hill.

 **A/N: Another chapter done! Just to be clear for those of you who are just casual readers and don't spend nearly every free moment researching different things about middle earth, Khuzdûl is the language of the dwarves and Adûniac is the dead language which evolved into Westron, so it's kind of like Anglo-Saxon English (at least that's what I think).**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!**


	24. Chapter 23: A Budding Friendship

From the position in Éomer's arms, Lothíriel caught herself looking up at him. From this position it was little wonder that nearly every woman in their right mind didn't find him to be the most attractive of men. She couldn't help but notice that he looked a bit more serene as they moved up the hill than he had been during their tiff. His earthy scent wafted towards her nose and she found herself relaxing. She had to admit that despite his shifting moods, simply his presence put her at ease. ' _His easy manner with his people and Éowyn that I witnessed as a horse leads me to feel we'd be well matched. Now, if only something could be done about his hasty judgements_.' As she realized where her mind was going she shook her head, as if that would dispel her treacherous thoughts. She opened her mouth, about to demand she be put down before she lost her mind when Éomer spoke softly.

"I'm sorry for offending you earlier." He glanced down at her to see her mouth open before she forced it closed. "I did not mean to insult your intelligence, it is simply uncommon for Gondorians to take the time to learn our language." He paused and Lothíriel caught a smile playing on his lips. "In fact, I have to admit I was rather impressed." Despite her earlier declaration that him being impressed could be little more than expected she was surprised.

"You were?" Her voice came out a bit more shrill than she had meant for it to.

"Indeed. I know that for most people who did not grow up learning it, rohirric is a difficult language and for a foreigner to speak it with as much ease as you demonstrated, it shows both intelligence and dedication."

"I will admit," Lothíriel bit her lip, "that it did take an extraordinary amount of practice to get the accent right."

"For someone to be as smart as you are, I cannot help but wonder how you were convinced to drink that potion." Éomer's voice wasn't accusatory, merely curious. Lothíriel was glad for that. She doubted she had the wherewithal to stand up to Éomer in her current state.

"Perhaps even the most intelligent of people are at risk of being taken in." She hoped this answer would suit. She really didn't want to start arguing again.

"Hmm." Éomer's response hummed deep within him. It wasn't long before they reached the top of the hill and he gently set her down. "I have done my duty, princess," Éomer bowed, "I wish you a peaceful rest." He began to turn when Lothíriel moved without thinking.

"Sire," she stepped forward and lightly touched his arm. Just as quickly as she had done it, she removed her hand and stepped back. Éomer turned, looking at her, a mixture of anticipation and caution in his expression.

"Is there something else you require." He raised an eyebrow.

"I think perhaps we should bury the dwarven axe, as it were." She fidgeted with her hands for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you mean." Éomer's other eyebrow lifted.

"I know you decided that I'm not the right fit to be your wife and queen," Éomer stiffened slightly but Lothíriel continued, "and I have no intention of marrying someone I do not love; perhaps we could be friendly towards each other." The tension immediately left Éomer. "During my time as a horse, we did get along fairly well. That tells me that there must be room for a friendship." She smiled up at him for a moment. "It's something to think on, at least." She bowed slightly before turning to go inside the hall.

"If we're to be friends," she heard Éomer say clearly, "then you should address me by my name. None of that 'sire' business." She turned her head and her smile widened.

"My friends call me Lothíriel, rather than princess." She chuckled lightly, "Though some have called me Flower Dancer before." She reentered the hall, letting the chuckle evolve into a full laugh.

 **A/N: And the ice begins to thaw! Hope you enjoyed this little exchange. So I was wondering, how you guys would like it if I jumped into Éomer's POV. Or do you prefer that I remain as I have with only Lothíriel to understand what's going on?**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

 **Also, if you go to my profile, I've updated my social media stuff so if you want to follow me not only on here but among the other websites I'll be posting stuff, go ahead and take a look!**


	25. Chapter 24: A New Perspective

Éomer watched Lothíriel pass the threshold of Meduseld. Although her pace was rather slow, she moved so fluidly that had he not known of her condition, he would never have guessed that she was recovering – quite rapidly – from her wounds. When she was out of sight, he forced himself to turn and begin his trek through the town for the third time that day. With each step, he found himself thinking more and more on Lothíriel.

His feelings for her were somewhat contradictory, rather like the woman herself. She smiled and laughed with such ease and delight that he felt rather drawn to her, but there was also a fire within her that he had not expected. Not in a woman born and bred as a southern, Gondorian princess. If she had been a lady of Rohan, he would have expected as much from her, but perhaps his predjudices against southern breeding had colored his expectations of their behavior. Besides her intelligence, there was also something to be said about her odd transformation.

Horses were the lifeblood of Rohan. For a woman to become a horse, let alone show as much bravery and selflessness as she had – especially after he had heard she believed a woman and child were being attacked – it showed a sense of duty and being that was very attractive. He had spent many years throwing himself into battle after battle, bound by a duty and desire to protect his countrymen and women. But to be put in such a position where he couldn't even communicate properly who he was or what had happened to him, he wondered if he would have the capability to maintain his sanity both during and after returning to his rightful body. He was still pondering this when he heard a shout.

"There you are!" The voice belonged to his captain and best friend, Éothain. "You're supposed to be judging the races and then archery contests very shortly." He clapped Éomer on the shoulder. "Where have you been?"

"I was…escorting the princess back to Meduseld for a rest." Éomer shrugged the hand off and continued walking, picking up his pace. Éothain moved with him, keeping the pace easily.

"It's little wonder that you are late then." Éothian gave him a knowing look.

"Her wound was troubling her." Éomer met Éothain's gaze which faltered for a moment. Although there was nothing romantic between Lothíriel and himself, Éomer did not want there to be any sort of rumor going around that besmirch her honor and reputation as a highborn lady. Least of all, a careless joke made between friends. The two traveled together in silence until they reached the panel where a large wooden chair stood.

It was the same as his uncle had sat in for decades before his death. It was the same chair that no doubt his heirs would use during festivals of this sort. It had a high back and the very top of it had two horse heads meeting together directly above his head. Some of his people greeted him and he returned their salutation sometimes with a grin and nod, and sometimes with quiet words. He sunk into the chair as a line of horses stood before him. The riders varied between nobles and commonfolk, men and women. Taking his war horn, Éomer put it to his lips and blew. The deep call sounded for an instant before the horses bolted forward, each vying for the spot in the front.

As he watched, his thoughts returned to Lothíriel. She had raced like this. She had also beaten Firefoot. He felt a bit embarrassed as he thought of the fact he had considered mating the two of them together. After something like that, it was wonder that she had even spoken to him again at all. But it wasn't in her character to be deeply offended by such things. There was no way for anyone to know what had happened to her. Despite having a rather quick temper, she seemed to be the sort to just as quickly forgive others who had wronged her. That was something that he admired.

He knew his own temper was something most people both in Gondor and Rohan knew of, but his forgiveness was not easily given. Perhaps if he spent more time with Lothíriel, that quality would begin to rub off on him. Her father would no doubt arrive before the end of the week. He would make an effort to spend time with her before she had to leave his court and they could truly pursue a friendship with each other.

 **A/N: And I'm back to writing again! Sorry for the long delay. I've actually been working through a tiny bit of writer's block since the characters took a bit of a turn from what I originally planned for them and I had to work out how things are going to end up for this interesting couple.**

 **I will definitely do my best to go back to updating daily if not twice a day. Thanks so much for your patience! I look forward to hearing what you guys thought of this chapter!**


	26. Chapter 25: Friend of a Friend

Éomer felt a swell of pride for his people as he watched them compete. Not only was he proud to be one of their countrymen, but he knew that he should be the best king he could be for them all. He remained in his seat for the remainder of the various competitions. As they came to a close he began to hand out the prizes to the winners. Most of them were pouches of gold while a few of the winners of races won breeding rights to whichever mare or stallion they wished, by order of the king. It was a time honored tradition that was acknowledged by each and every rohirrim. Eventually he had finished the morning duties and just as he stepped down from the stand with his temporary throne, Éowyn approached him.

"It seems that instead of placating Lothíriel, you managed to drive her away." Éowyn chuckled, "And here I thought you were quite accomplished with the ladies."

"She needed to rest." Éomer sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"I see." Éowyn's teasing sobered slightly. "Perhaps we should go and check on her. It's still quite some time before the evening activities where we'll both be needed."

"I'm sure she's fine, and no doubt resting from the busy afternoon. Try to remember that she is still recovering from her wounds. It was probably unwise to push her in such a state."

"Oh, she'll be fine." Éowyn waved her hand dismissively, "whatever Aragorn did seemed to work splendidly. Just yesterday morning I saw how much she's healed already."

"Speaking of, where is Aragorn? I haven't seen him since yesterday." Éomer decided to change the subject. While he was happy that Lothíriel was truly recovering, he knew that if he didn't distract his sister, she would be bothering the princess until the time came to an end.

"He's most likely back in Meduseld." Éowyn tapped her chin lightly, "He and Lady Arwen were coming with me to see you, but there seemed to be some dispute between a few Gondorians and they went to settle it." She began walking back towards the city, pulling Éomer gently by the arm. He must not have been moving quickly enough because she turned back and was about to say something when she bumped into someone.

"I'm terribly sorry," a cracked, feminine voice sounded. Éomer peered over his sister's shoulder to see a short, dark skinned woman looking up at him. Something in the back of his mind niggled at him as he looked at her. It was an odd feeling that he couldn't place.

"Oh no," Éowyn smiled kindly, "it was my fault entirely." She let go of Éomer's arm, letting it fall to his side. "Is there something I can help you with, mistress?"

"You're so kind to offer." The woman returned the smile. "I am looking for the people I came with here. They seemed to have wandered off without me, but worry not, I will find them to be sure."

"We can help you if you'd like." Éomer spoke up, "What did they look like and where were you when you lost them?"

"It is nothing to cause you worry, King Éomer." The woman let out a cackling laugh that sputtered into a brief cough. She cleared her throat before looking up to him with a strange expression. "I believe that you should return to your hall very soon. And you should swallow some of your pride once in a while. It wouldn't do to have you miss out on such a full and happy life simply because you couldn't admit to yourself you were wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Éomer felt so surprised by the sudden advice that he didn't have a chance to feel insulted.

"Another thing to remember is that sometimes, people make choices because they feel they must. If anyone can understand that, it should be the two of you." She patted Éomer's arm. Before he could respond he heard someone calling to him and his sister. Both siblings glanced towards the voice and saw that it was Aragorn waving to them. When Éomer turned back to where the woman was, she was nowhere to be seen.

"What was that all about?" Éowyn looked up at Éomer.

"I don't really know." He rubbed the back of his neck, "but I have a sneaking suspicion that we just me Lothíriel's fortune teller."

 **A/N: Hello all! Another chapter in Éomer's POV. I'm toying around with the idea of writing the rest of the story in his perspective. Sort of like spending the first half in Lothíriel's mind, understanding her as a person before ending things with Éomer. I'm not entirely sure if that's how I'll end up doing it though. Let me know what you think!**

 **A quick shoutout to Ambercoal - Happy birthday! I would have messaged you if I could, but still, happy to hear that you were glad to see a new chapter!**

 **I love hearing from you guys! Let me know if you have any ideas of a funny/interesting scenario you might like to see and maybe I'll throw it in there for you!**

 **See you next chapter!**


	27. Chapter 26: A New Friend

As Lothíriel wandered through the hall of Meduseld later that afternoon she took all of it in. Though she had seen it that morning, she now approached it with a more studious air. Similar to how the columns in the stables depicted stories, the pillars in the great hall seemed to tell the tale of kings and horses and the what Lothíriel assumed to be the birth of Rohan as a country. After the pillars, her attention shifted to the tapestries hanging towards the back of the hall, directly behind the throne. The rich greens, reds and golds were beautiful. One of them in particular drew her. It was not some expressive scene but instead a simple crest. The golden sun on a solid green background made her think of the plains and how it was when she was a horse, running along them when the sun stood high and bright in the sky.

"Most people who are not native to our land do not feel drawn to the crests of Rohan." A feminine voice from behind Lothíriel spoke. She turned to see a woman, perhaps a few years older than Lothíriel. Her hair was red as fire and curled together in such a way making it seem as though it truly was alight. She was tall and stood in a dark red dress and her blue eyes sparkled as if she were on the brink of laughter. The expression was contagious as Lothíriel felt a chuckle rise from within her.

"I suppose I can understand how other hangings and even carvings could capture the imagination to most others, but I find that the simplicity in this is…something of an experience." Lothíriel turned her gaze back up to the tapestry for a moment, letting her gaze and thoughts linger on it and the images it conjured within her.

"I'm glad to see that someone in your position seems to have an appreciation for our artistry." She smiled.

"In my position?" Lothíriel's brows came together as she questioned the lady.

"Indeed." She nodded, "If Rohan is to have a foreign queen, it would be best to have one who can appreciate our values." Lothíriel turned to face the woman fully.

"I'm afraid that you may be disappointed if you believe I am to be the queen here." Lothíriel shook her head. "There is nothing between Éomer and me."

"Oh," Her happy expression faded slightly, "I could have sworn after seeing you earlier. Are you perhaps not attracted to the notion of being wife to such a man and king?"

Lothíriel shifted uncomfortably. "It's not so much that I'm not attracted to being his wife, or even that I'm not attracted to him." She began to speak a little faster as her face began to flush. "No doubt on my part it's little more than an infatuation which was quashed quite well after he declared he had no intention to marry me."

"I see," the woman bit her lip, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I only thought after how close the two of you looked…" her voice slowly quieted until the rest was inaudible. There was an awkward silence between the two before the woman looked up suddenly. "I just realized, I never introduced myself." The smile was back in place. "I am Mistress Hedda."

"Lovely to meet you," Lothíriel was glad to fall into the rhythm of pleasantries. "I'm Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, though my friends simply call me Lothíriel." She began to walk back towards the entrance to Meduseld with Hedda beside her. "Are you married, Mistress Hedda."

"I'm not." She shook her head, sending the curls waving about. "Though I was betrothed to a young man during the war. Both he and my father died fighting in it."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Lothíriel thought back to how overjoyed she was each time all three of her brothers and father returned from the field of battle.

"Time heals all wounds." Hedda sighed lightly. "My mother and I care for the children who were left without parents here in Edoras. The king has been quite generous to give us a place in the city and provide us with all of our needs."

"He seems to be a good king, who cares greatly for his people." Lothíriel was speaking more to herself. "Do you think I could meet the children?"

"Of course." Hedda linked arms with Lothíriel before stepping forward with more purpose. "I'm sure they would be delighted to meet you."

 **A/N: Hello all and a belated happy new year to you all! Sorry for the long delay between posts, this holiday season was such a bustle that my writing had to take a backseat for a while. Thanks to all of you for being patient so far!**

 **I hope you're looking forward to the future of this story, I know I certainly am!**


	28. Chapter 27: Argument on Deaf Ears

"You've been glancing at the road leading back up to Meduseld all afternoon." The teasing tone of Éothain interrupted Éomer's thoughts. "You might as well go on and see her before you have to do your kingly duty after sunset." Éomer glanced at his friend who was smiling at him wryly.

"Am I so obvious?" Éomer chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Obvious, besotted," the smile broadened, "among many other things."

"I don't know that I wouldn't go that far." Éothain rolled his eyes to Éomer's protest.

"For pity's sake, don't lie to yourself." When Éomer pursed his lips Éothain barked out a laugh. "And don't be stubborn either. Admit to yourself that you made a hasty judgement thanks to your short temper."

"There was –" He was cut off before he could begin to defend himself.

"You may be able to fool yourself, but not me. If you truly felt that way about that bonnie lass, I doubt you would have shown her such attention ever since she left her room."

Éomer sighed, realizing that there was nothing he could say to convince his captain and best friend. His mind began to wander again briefly, touching on the strange meeting with who he believed was the fortune teller, and that train of thought led back easily to Lothíriel again. He was staring at the road once again, remembering their rather short trek up it, with her body sitting easily in his arms when another voice behind him sounded.

"There you are, brother!" Éowyn gave him a quick hug from behind. "I was about to go up and change into my dress for tonight and check on Lothíriel in the process. Would you care to join me?" She gave him a knowing look. Did everyone have to make such assumptions?

"Éomer King has already traveled through Edoras from top to bottom at least three times today, I doubt he would want to make another journey up unless there were something specific he was interested in seeing." Éothain spoke as solemnly as he could manage though the look on his face gave away that he thought it a great joke. Before he could say anything in either agreement of protest, Éowyn looked at Éomer with pleading eyes.

"Oh please! This will be my last summer festival with you before I'm wed and who knows if I'll be fit to return in time for the next one." She grasped his arm, gently tugging him. He could deny her nothing with that argument. As he began to follow her, her face lit up in a broad grin.

With each step Edoras and it's people seemed to fade as he retreated again to his thoughts. He considered what Éothain had made fairly clear. He would need to watch how he behaved, lest the whole of Rohan begin to form ideas as to his relationship to the princess of Dol Amroth. He was lost for a time until, once again a piercing voice rang out, pulling him out from his introspection.

"With a cry, the pirate king flew at the handsome prince, his silver sword flashing in the light of the sun. The prince threw his own weapon up, and blocked the blow. As the two metals touched, sparks flew!" Éomer began to follow the sound until he reached the orphanage. Behind the building, in a small patch of grass was Lothíriel, surrounded by the children, totally captured by her story. Éomer couldn't blame them.

"The two of them continued to trade blows with each other, each time more sparks flew." She lowered her voice and leaned forward slightly, the children leaning in closer as if she were about to tell them a secret. "The pirate king was so captured by his duel that he didn't realize that the sparks were setting his ship alight." She sat straight again. Just as she did, Éomer noticed that around him, there were some rohirrim who had stopped what they were doing to listen to this story along with the children. "On and on the battle raged, the flames of their war made real until at last the final blow was struck!" All eyes were on Lothíriel, awaiting the outcome. "The pirate king lay on his deck, dead, the prince's sword stuck into his heart." There seemed to be a sigh of relief among the crowd. "The prince ran across the plank to his own ship and swiftly sailed away, leaving the enflamed ship and former captain to his fate. The prince returned home to his wife on the shore and the two lived happily for the rest of their days."

There was silence after she finished her story for a brief moment before one of the children got up and shouted, "Pirate king! You have pillaged your last!" He pulled up a thin stick from the ground waving it around. Another stood and found a stick of their own before the two of them began to imitate the fight as Lothíriel had described. Most of the rohirrim who had come to listen began to chat with each other and go about their way as Lothíriel laughed in delight at the scene that played out before her. Something must have caught her eye as she did because she turned and Éomer's eyes met hers. Her face was flushed from the excitement of sharing her story and her eyes seemed to sparkle with life and pleasure. Éomer felt a strange pressure within his chest.

"Perhaps you weren't entirely wrong." He muttered to Éothain.

 **A/N: Oh my goodness it's been such a long time! I can't believe how time manages to slip past without the notice of me sometimes! Sorry for the long wait all! I hope this update makes it at least partially worth it.**


	29. Chapter 28: Passions

Lothíriel felt her heart skip a beat as she saw Éomer watching her. Her already flushed face brightened a deeper shade of red before she turned away, choosing to pay more attention to a little girl retelling her story to a doll. It was adorable hearing her speak in little lisps as she worked to pronounce some of the harder words. From the corner of her eye, she could see Éomer still staring at her. What was he thinking?

"I don't think I've ever seen someone tell a story as masterfully as you!" Hedda came forward, offering a hand to help Lothíriel up from her seat. As she stood, the motion seemed to instill new life into Éomer and he added his own comment.

"You have a real talent for this sort of thing. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were taught by one of Rohan's best storytellers."

Lothíriel licked her lips bashfully. "In a way I did." When they looked at her, confusion clear on their faces, she continued her explaination. "A few years back, before the war truly began to rage through our lands, a merchant came to Dol Amroth. He had traveled through many lands, recording the stories of those lands. My brother happened to meet him bought the gift for me as a gift. I've always been an avid reader." She fidgeted with her hands, under their scrutiny. "Each place had different ways of telling their stories and though the tome only had a few recorded of each, they clearly stood out.

"Bree and what I would guess are the hobbit folks' way is very light with a great amount of comedy used, though they are not afraid to be serious should the occasion arise. The elves' is very similar to Gondor's though it is more reliant on musical accompaniment. And Rohan, " she glanced between the two who were listening as well as Éowyn and Éothain who had joined to listen. "Well, Rohan is very different in the way that they tell the stories. There is a rhythm to them where it's almost like a chant, but that only serves to bring the listener to attention. It has a more somber, song like quality, though it's not quite as simple as that. The detail everything is given allows the words to flow outward like a whirlwind in a field, spreading and whipping everything into place." She would have continued but as she saw a strange smile on Éomer's face and glanced down at her feet. "I don't mean to ramble."

"I would have liked to meet this merchant." Éomer's deep voice was quiet and contemplative. "Most rohirric stories are passed down from father to son, mother to daughter. This tradition is mostly due to an inability to read or write among the commonfolk."

"What stories from Rohan did you read?" Éowyn wanted to know.

"The story of Eorl the Young and Felaróf, The Gift of Calenardhon and the Oath of Eorl, and The Reign of Helm Hammerhand." She listed without much thought. All four rohirrim nodded to the titles.

"I'm not very surprised that those were the stories the merchant was able to gather." Éothian stated simply. "The history of the Mark is something that nearly every rohirric child grows up hearing."

They probably would have continued that conversation, but before anyone could say anything else, one of the children tugged on Hedda's sleeve. She bent down to tend the child. A few moments of silence, Lothíriel nodded awkwardly before stepping away from the group. Éomer stepped with her, catching her hand. The contact between their skin sent a shock through her as she saw the strange look in his eyes. She fought the urge to swiftly pull her hand away but he must have seen some of the hesitation on her own face because just as quickly as he held it, he let it go.

"Are you well rested?" He asked quietly. She nodded before he continued. "I wondered if you would feel up to joining us at the bonfire this evening."

"Indeed, I was hoping that I would be able to go." She didn't want to think about how her heart seemed to quicken at the implied invitation. 'It is merely an offer between friends. No doubt he wants to be sure I don't feel neglected as his guest. Don't let an infatuation ruin this new friendship.' She decided rationally, calming herself. His next words seemed to cement that belief.

"Very good," Éomer smiled brightly, "Éowyn was on her way to change for the evening. Her performance requires a specific dress. You can join our party this evening. No doubt we'll be seated in the forefront, allowing you to have an unobstructed view."

Lothíriel returned the smile. "It would be my pleasure."

 **A/N: I always enjoyed the idea of readers who use books to travel throughout the world when they don't have the means to otherwise. In my opinion, being able to travel in the way only a reader can is a gift only a writer can give. Back when Lothíriel explained that she traveled the world by learning their languages, I began to wonder if she would simply be satisfied with that, and the answer was clearly, of course not!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review for me so I know how you like the story thus far!**

 **See you next chapter!**

 **P.S.**

 **I'm not going to promise how quickly the updates will be simply because I don't want to anger the muses and jinx myself.**


	30. Chapter 29: Something Old, Something New

Éomer smiled warmly as his sister returned to the dining hall, wearing the traditional crimson dress, lined with golden embroidery along the hem of her skirt as well as her sleeves and neckline. The way that the gold glimmered on her when the dwindling sunlight touched her, reminded him of a single flame, burning bright. Rather than taking it's usual unbound – and rather wild – appearance, her hair was braided intricately with a thin circlet placed around her. The circlet had been their mother's and in that moment, he saw how alike she looked to his distant memory of her. A small pang of grief pulled at his heart, though he didn't have time to linger on it. Almost as soon as she stepped out, she turned around, a playful smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, come along!" She stifled a chuckle, "There's no need to be nervous. You look fine." Hesitantly, Lothíriel stepped out. Éomer felt his breath rush out of him. Saying she looked fine was like saying the Mearas were smart horses. He doubted he'd ever heard a greater understatement. In stark contrast to the bright red that Éowyn wore, Lothíriel stood in a deep green dress. It fitted around her nicely as he couldn't help but notice how it flowed around her various curves. There was gold thread around the hem of her dress, though it was less ornate than Éowyn's ceremonial gown. Aside from two strands that had been pulled back from the front, Lothíriel's hair hung loose, tumbling down her back in loose waves. She met Éomer's eyes and must have noticed his look because her cheeks reddened and Éomer found himself imagining other scenarios where her face would flush. He shook his head, dispelling those thoughts for the time being. Éowyn glanced from her brother to Lothíriel before pulling Lothíriel forward by the hand.

"You look…" He started when they stood before him but Éowyn finished as he hesitated.

"Beautiful, of course." She nudged her brother lightly with her elbow.

"I don't know," Lothíriel shuffled nervously. "Éowyn insisted I dress in a rohirric dress since I would be seated with you, but I wonder if it's at all disrespectful, or if it might send the wrong message." Éomer reached out and gently took Lothíriel's hand, bringing it forward to kiss the knuckles.

"You look perfect." When he straightened, he added, "It suits you." Her slight blush deepened as she took her hand away. There was an awkward silence that fell over the party for a few beats before there was another sound from across the hall.

"I hardly recognize you in that outfit." Amrothos' words were slurred slightly as he joined the group. His arrival seemed to distract Lothíriel from any hindrance or self consciousness.

"Where have you been all day? If I didn't know any better, I would have suspected you'd left Edoras at first light?" She placed her hands on her hips as she gave him a withering scowl. At least, it would have been withering if Amrothos had bothered to take note of it.

"I slept late this morning and when I did wake, I learned you had departed with this lot." He waved his hand at Éomer. "So what was I to do? I found somewhere that served ale and shared war stories with some fine fellows and lasses." His mouth tilted up as he mumbled, "Some very fine lasses." Lothíriel rolled her eyes.

"I doubt you're sober enough to properly enjoy the bonfire. You'd probably fall into it in this state. The ale here is stronger than that of home, and if I know you, you tried to keep up with whoever you were drinking with." Amrothos shrugged at Lothíriel's conclusion, wobbling slightly. "Go to bed and in the morning, no doubt the healer will have something to take the edge of your pain." Amrothos seemed to consider for a moment. Whether he wanted to argue or not, Éomer didn't know, but eventually he shrugged again before bidding a loud farewell.

"Enjoy yourself, sister. With how the king is staring at you, no doubt he is already." His laughter at his drunken joke carried down the halls. The blush was on Lothíriel's face once more, as she glanced bashfully at Éomer. Without missing a beat, Éowyn linked arms with Lothíriel before swiftly guiding her out of the hall. Within minutes they would begin the ending ceremony, declaring the summer had officially begun.

 **A/N: Hope you're all having a pleasant day so far! For my American readers, Happy Super Bowl Sunday!**

 **This story is really not going along as quickly as I thought it would when I first started it. Not that I'm necessarily upset by that. This chapter in particular was to remedy the fact that we haven't seen Amrothos in some time. Aside from that, Éomer needed a good chance to ogle her (lol).**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I hope I'll see you soon with an update.**


	31. Chapter 30: Warmth and Light

Lothíriel stood, wide eyed, at the pyre before her. By her estimation, it stood taller than three men and some of the logs were so wide, she doubted any one person could have carried them. How these could have appeared within the span of a single day was a mystery all its own, but like magic, it stood, tall and ready to be lit. Ready to announce to the world a new and victorious summer was present in the land of Rohan.

"It's not normally this large." She felt the warm breath against her cheek as Éomer whispered to her. "This is usually designated for the first celebrations after significant events such as a coronation, a royal wedding or the birth of the king and queen's first child." His hand reached down and gently took hold of her elbow, guiding her to her designated spot. In stead of joining them, Éowyn turned away and received something that glinted in the twilight. In one hand was a jagged stone that fit the into Éowyn's palm perfectly, and in the other, a piece of steel, carved so as to look like the neck and head of a horse.

All around them there was excited chatter as people prepared them for the ceremonious lighting. The sounds of their voices all mingled together around where Éomer and Lothíriel stood, well away from the pyre though still in the front row. From her spot, she could see Éowyn greeting people as she passed them, all the while circling round the pyre, checking it before stopping directly in front of Éomer and Lothíriel.

Almost as if it had been waiting for everyone to arrive, the sun dipped under the horizon and the crowd grew silent. It was eerie how so many men, women and children could quiet themselves after such excitement in the new night, but it didn't stay silent for long. A low hum began to go throughout the crowd, surrounding the plain. It was slow and seemed unending. It took her a few moments to realize that the hum came from the men who circled. Beside her, Éomer added his own, singular, note. Although it wasn't a loud sound, it was enveloping. From the front of her, another sound called out. It was feminine and clear, unhindered by the hum.

 _Our hearts beat to the rhythm of freedom._

 _Our eyes see the blazing sun,_

 _And it is echoed within our souls._

Just as Éowyn finished the words, more feminine voices of various pitches joined in, singing the next part with her.

 _Forever more we are victorious!_

 _Forever more we are free!_

 _Together we welcome the summer,_

 _Once again upon this land._

There was a clicking sound that Lothíriel realized was the steel striking against the flint just as the dim light of sparks flew into the air. One of the sparks caught and the silhouette of Éowyn covered the light as she bent over to blow on it. Once that spark was allowed to flourish, she stood once again, her voice alone singing the words.

 _Summer where the horses run faster than the wind on the plains._

 _Summer where love and life reaches its peak._

 _Summer when the world is abundant and men are free!_

The other women's voices rang out again in harmony.

 _Forever more we are victorious!_

 _Forever more we are free!_

 _Together we welcome summer,_

 _Once again upon this land._

The fire behind Éowyn burned slowly and the women joined in on the hum, some repeating the last lines of the song. Like the beating of a heart, the fire spread slowly from the inside out of the pyre until the flames couldn't be contained any longer. In a burst, the flames licked out towards the sky, lighting the area as if the sun had returned in spite of the night. The hum ended and was replaced by the song being repeated by some while others added more melodies to it. Children rushed through the crowds to dance with Éowyn around the fire. Quickly enough, other men and women joined them and all danced together, delighting in the warmth and light of the fire.

"Will you join me?" Éomer held out his hand to Lothíriel. She looked to his outstretched hand for a moment but was tempted to take it before remembering her earlier injury. She shook her head and placed a hand where the bandages were. A flicker of disappointment was in his eyes but his expression was understanding. "You'll be well?" Lothíriel understood and nodded, smiling encouragingly.

Éomer turned away from her and met with his sister. She pulled him into her arms and the two spun gracefully to the man made music. As Lothíriel watched them, she felt the pressure in her heart as she realized with a sinking feeling that her attraction to Éomer was more than infatuation. She was falling in love with the man. What would have been delight was tempered with the knowledge that he felt nothing more than friendship for her and would no doubt find someone he felt was better suited to the position of wife and queen than her.

Understanding this, she longed for the return of her father and with him, her own departure from this place to her home where she could only hope to move on from these growing, pointless feelings.

 **A/N: Two chapters in one day! Yay! I'm really pleased with how the story is progressing and I hope you look forward to how it will further develop.**

 **Please be sure to leave a review so I know how you like the story thus far. See you guys next chapter!**


	32. Chapter 31: Plans for the Day

The next morning, Lothíriel sat in Edoras' healing house while the two healers studied her stomach. The poultice had been removed and nothing remained where the wound should have been. They touched the area, asking about tenderness and other related questions, but after rigorous study, they both straightened.

"I truly believe we should have King Aragorn teach us a few of his techniques. The amount of time it took for healing like this to take place is paramount to magic!" One of the healers stated as Lothíriel redressed herself. While she was grateful for how quickly she had recovered, she did wonder if the credit rested solely upon the King of Gondor's abilities as a healer. The two healers continued to speculate until Lothíriel excused herself, breaking their reverie for a few moments to bid her farewell before turning back round and wondering some more. The first thing she saw after her eyes adjusted to the light was Éowyn marching towards her, an inscrutable expression on her face.

"There you are! I've been searching for you. Why were you in the healing house?" Éowyn was still several feet as she spoke, though with each word she came closer.

"It seems I've recovered from my misadventure." Lothíriel smiled, "Why were you looking for me? Has Amrothos gotten himself into trouble?" Éowyn finally reached her.

"What? Oh, no, no." Éowyn twirled a finger round a loose lock of hair. "I actually wanted to ask you to spend the day with me."

"If you'd like." Lothíriel nodded. "What do you have in mind?"

"I think you would enjoy a day to explore Edoras and, since you end it with a ride perhaps?" Éowyn arched an eyebrow as she spoke.

"I believe that would be a very pleasant day." Lothíriel linked arms with Éowyn, "Where would you like to start?"

"Well, you've seen the orphanage, and no doubt you've seen your fair share of the stables." She tapped her a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Oh! I'll take you to the place that Éomer and I frequented as children after we first started to live here."

As they walked at a steady pace, Lothíriel felt the question within her bubble up until she couldn't help but ask. "What was your childhood like?"

"When we lived in Aldburg we were just as happy as anyone could be. After both of our parents died, we came to live here. Our uncle and cousin helped us through our grief in different ways. Éomer found it in his sense of duty while I learned the ways of our court, along with other skills. For a long time, Éomer has been a rather somber person, though I have noticed a difference when he is around you." She gave a wink, and before Lothíriel could say anything, she turned the corner round a house, bringing them to the training grounds behind Meduseld.

Lothíriel's breath caught in her throat as she saw Éomer standing, shirtless as he fought against two other rohirrim. The morning rays glinted off of the sheen of sweat that covered his tanned skin. When she finally managed to breathe again, she caught Éowyn's smug smile and blushed. As Éomer caught sight of the two women, he smiled, though he did nothing else to acknowledge them until he easily disarmed them. He trotted over to them, his grin growing as Éowyn greeted him.

"I see you've had a busy morning." She folded her arms.

"I promised myself that I would find time to enjoy myself after all the festivities have come to an end." He turned his attention to Lothíriel, "You would not believe how many kingly duties are necessary for such an event." Shifting his weight, he changed the conversation, "What are you ladies up to?"

"Éowyn caught me leaving the house of healing and invited me to join her in exploring Edoras." Lothíriel answered cheerily.

"And you are well, I trust?" Éomer asked.

"Quite well." Lothíriel nodded her head as she reassured him. "It seems I am fully healed." Éomer's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Excellent news!" He gave a single short laugh, "I wonder if you feel up to joining me for a ride after the midday meal? Surely, given how early in the day it is, you should have plenty of time to see most of Edoras' nooks and crannies."

Lothíriel wondered how much damage to her heart such a venture would take on her, but a large part of her wanted to enjoy the company of this man who inspired such feelings in her. "I seem to have a full day ahead of me. I look forward to seeing you later for the ride."

Éomer nodded enthusiastically, "Until midday." He nodded before turning back round and finishing his training.

 **A/N: I'm back again after another absence. Sorry for the wait!**

 **Hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Life is getting busy over here but hopefully it'll become a routine so I can dedicate much more time to my writing. See you guys next chapter!**


	33. Chapter 32: To Win a Favor

Éomer sat atop Firefoot, watching most of the Rohirrim who had not already cleaned and packed their stalls, attending to them in preparation for a journey home. He was glad that with the end of the war, travel between the cities and towns in Rohan had grown safe enough to increase trade. It would only do his people good. He was still thinking on this time of peace and prosperity when he heard the clop of hooves against the road behind him. He turned to see Lothíriel, once again dressed in Rohirrim clothing, only this time it was a dress meant for riding a horse astride rather than the sidesaddle most southern nobility were wont to choose.

"I apologize if I made you wait, my lord." She dipped her head as a courtesy for a moment. Her eyes looked at his saddle before looking back up at him. "I see that we won't be skipping the midday meal." Hanging on either side of his saddle were two bundles containing cold meats, cheeses and bread along with a bottle of sweet mead. "I must admit, I'm rather relieved. I believe after the morning that Éowyn and I shared I could eat as much as a horse." The look on her face as she made the pun was so comical that Éomer couldn't help but laugh.

"Worry not," he spoke when he finally managed his laughter, "so long as you are with me, I will see your every need is cared for." He shifted his weight before lightly urging Firefoot forward, leading Lothíriel out of the city. They rode in silence for a few minutes before Lothíriel spoke.

"These plains are a temptation all their own to my horse and to me, though I would not have though so before my transformation. Now I see them and want nothing more than to run freely amidst the wild grass and flowers, feeling the wind blow through me." She flushed, and looked at Éomer sheepishly, "I suppose that's an odd temptation."

"Not at all," Éomer reassured her quickly. "It's something that I, as well as several other Rohirrim I have met over the years, yearns to do nearly every time we go out." Lothíriel's relief was clear as he spoke. "Would you perhaps like to indulge? I can promise you it is safe enough, and if you're to gallop away at any time, I would suggest it be before you have your stomach full."

"I think I will." She nodded. "Will you join me?" He nodded and she smiled. "Then I propose we make a race out of it." She scanned the horizon before pointing to the edge of the forest nearly a mile away from them. "First one there wins?"

"And what should be the prize for winning?" Éomer asked.

"The winner will be granted a favor, or a wish or whatever else you'd like to call it." She grinned.

"That sounds fair to me." He returned the grin before settling into his seat, ready for the mad dash.

"Ready," she copied him as she bent forward slightly, "set, go!" The word was hardly out of her mouth before the two kicked their horses forward, towards the trees. Éomer urged Firefoot to go faster. He was thankful he was wearing nothing more than a leather jerkin, for the bundles of food were heavy and such weight along with a rider in full armor would have slowed him down. As it was, halfway to the trees he began to move ahead of Lothíriel's steed. By the time he reached the tree line, he was a full body length behind him. He pulled to a stop, turning round to see as she just arrived.

"I was a fool to think that I could outrun your Firefoot, no matter the burden." She laughed. "It would seem I'm far better at winning races when I am the one actually doing the racing." Éomer dismounted and held his hands up to Lothíriel, hoping to help her down. She balanced herself into his hands, letting them fit round her waist as he gently put her down on the ground.

"Well, as I am the winner, I am owed a favor." He turned and untied a large blanket from his saddle and laying it on the ground. She took a seat and looked up at him.

"And what is your wish, my lord?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't decided yet." He brought down the bundles of food and laid them out before sitting beside her. "Perhaps for now we might just enjoy the day and each other's company before I make any decisions." He poured the mead for her to drink.

"I await your decision with anticipation."

 **A/N: Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Life has been busy as usual and it seems in the future it's only going to get busier, but one must always find time to write.**

 **Please leave me a review so I know how you liked the chapter. It seems like there's only a couple of them left for this story. See you next chapter!**


	34. Chapter 33: Peace and Friendship

The grass around the large blanket Lothíriel was seated on was long and smelled fresh and sweet. Although the sun was out in full force, the heat of the day was alleviated by the shade from the trees along with a light breeze. Their horses grazed lazily and Lothíriel could imagine how appealing the greenery was to them. After tending to the bags of food and drink, Éomer sat across from her with their food in between them. He opened the bottle of mead, but before he could pour their drinks, she took the bottle and cups from him, pouring them herself. When she handed the cup to him, he grinned.

"You truly do know our customs." He chuckled, "and to think, I was willing to make an allowance for a southerner."

"You must be careful with how you judge people, be them southerner or northerner. The people of Gondor would be wise to do the same." She shrugged. She sipped from the cup, noting that she could still taste some of the honey along with some kind of berry.

"Do you like it?" Éomer asked, pulling a small knife from his belt before slicing the bread he brought. "It's Éowyn's creation. Those berries are native to Aldburg, where we grew up before our parents died. She asked for it to be made for her on her 14th birthday from our uncle, before he grew too ill."

"It's delicious, truly. I've had rohirric mead before and it's usually much lighter than the wines that Dol Amroth produces. There are things about each that qualify them as temptations, but personally I tend to favor mead." Éomer nodded at her statement. They sat and ate in companionable silence for a few moments before Lothíriel spoke again. "I was curious – and if this question is offensive, I beg your forgiveness – but how do you find it is to be king? I know that you never expected such a mantle to be placed upon your shoulders." He didn't move for a long while after she asked her question until he finally sighed.

"I don't know what I expected." His voice was quiet, "After Theodred's death, I knew that I was next in the line of Eorl, but so much happened and we were at war to the point where I didn't even know if the Riddermark would survive it. And when the war was over, my uncle had been killed and I was left to tend to a grieving and recovering nation. Certainly I had help on my side from both Gondor and the grace of my people themselves, but this duty does not rest easily upon my shoulders. I hope I can be a decent king for my people, but there are always doubts in my mind."

"What kind of doubts?" Lothíriel placed her emptied cup down before shifting positions sitting a little closer to Éomer in order to hear him better.

"I know I have a temper, but I also have prejudices and my pride to contend with. My pride is among the worst of my faults because it often leads me to stand behind judgements I made in anger. Ones that I should perhaps admit were wrong." Éomer looked at Lothíriel meaningfully and she felt her pulse quicken within her as he shifted closer to her. "I think it's worth admitting that you exceeded any expectations or judgements I made. From your spirit to your intelligence, I have been next to nothing but impressed by you." His words grew quieter until they were little more than a whisper as he began to lean down slowly. Their lips were a hair's breadth away from each other when behind them was a snap.

Éomer's head whipped up and in a fluid motion he turned and pulled his sword from his scabbard. Lothíriel also made her way up, her breath rapid and light while her face was flushed in embarrassment.

"Who goes there? Show yourself!" He called in rohirric before repeating it in westron. After a full minute, three men, each holding spears, walked slowly out of the woods. By their garb and dark hair, Lothíriel knew that they were not rohirrim, but dunlendings. From behind him, Lothíriel could see Éomer's back tense in preparation. The men stood there, waiting for what she didn't know, but each party remained still and silent as statues. She could see Éomer coiling himself up, preparing for strike out at the nearest of the three when she noticed that behind them, hidden amongst the trees were more people. Several women and children along with a few elderly folk peaked around the trunks. One of the elders caught Lothíriel's eye and waved to her. He smiled, though there was caution within his expression as he glanced at Éomer from the shadows. Lothíriel touched Éomer's shoulder and though his face did not betray any emotion, the muscle twitched under her hand briefly. She came around his back until she stood by his side.

"I don't think they mean to cause us harm." She whispered to Éomer in rohirric, careful that her voice didn't carry over to the men. "Let me try to handle this. Perhaps there's a way to avoid fighting these men all together." Éomer's mouth tightened into a single line and she could see he didn't believe it possible. Coming forward a half step, she drew the spearmen's attention. The first two did nothing and continued to keep their attentions on Éomer while the third leveled his spear in her direction as a warning. She lifted her hands, showing her empty palms before calling out in a loud, clear voice, "Do any of you speak the common tongue?" She waited for a half second before the elder who had smiled at her stepped out from the line of trees.

"I do." His voice was rough like gravel and his face was weathered and wrinkled. "I wish to speak to the King of the Horselords."

"Have your spearmen lower their weapons first." She glanced at the sharp point before her. "Then we may speak as friends." She heard Éomer scoff behind her and she glanced at him, her look silencing the king. When she turned her attention back to the Dunlendings, the elder nodded and the spearmen did as she asked. He stepped past the men and bowed to Éomer.

"King, I have come to ask that our two lands may live in peace. I am not a very important man. I am no king or great lord, but I am the elder of my herdsmen and many others come to me for advice and after the war we suffered greatly. Our people were wrong to follow the wizard. And it is true that in many ways, our suffering has been of our own creation, but from the needs of our land I must ask forgiveness." He peeked up from through his eyebrows to judge Éomer's face while he remained bowed. "We have heard that you are a good and just king. That you care a great deal for your people. I would humbly ask you to find it within yourself to allow us to make amends for the atrocities we visited upon this land."

Lothíriel turned to look at Éomer and saw a hardness in his eyes. She turned away from the elder man and put her hand once again on Éomer's arm. "I believe they truly mean no ill will to you. I read once that in Dunland an elder herdsman is greatly esteemed by his people and almost never bows to another man unless the situation is truly dire." Éomer looked at her for a long moment before nodding and sliding his sword within his sheath. He gave a sharp whistle and the horses trotted over.

"If you truly wish to make peace, I will hear you out in Edoras. I will depart with this good lady now and send some of my men to escort you to the city." Never turning his back to the Dunlendings, he helped Lothíriel into the saddle before mounting Firefoot, leaving the food and drink entirely.

The elder nodded and straightened slowly. "We shall wait for the men of Rohan to come for us."


	35. Chapter 34: Resolution and Prosperity

Éothain stood with his arms crossed as he glared at his king. "You have done some foolish things in your time, but going out, alone, with no armor and only a sword to protect you! I know that we are in a time of peace, but there is always a chance at danger. Do I need to remind you that you are the last of your line?" He continued muttering under his breath as Éomer clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"You worry as much as a mother hen." He chuckled, "All turned out well enough. In fact, thanks to Lothíriel we may extend our peace to the people of Dunland and begin to mend the pains caused by long-standing enemies."

"Indeed I must thank Lady Lothíriel for I believe had you been on your own you might have walked right into one of those spears." He turned and walked away, "I swear, the fact that you turned her down is probably the worst decision you've ever made as a man and as a king." He began grumbling under his breath again as he walked away from his king. Éomer smiled to himself before leaving the room himself.

It had taken less than an hour for the dunlendings to arrive outside of Edoras where they were permitted to set up camp while the elder, his wife and two grandchildren were permitted to stay within one of the guest houses near Meduseld. They would need to meet in order to come to terms, but Éomer knew that the elder meant buisness about creating peace between their nations and it gave Éomer hope for the future of Rohan. There would be some, especially in the Westfold who would not be keen initially to trade and anything else to do with dunlendings, but he would see to it the peace would be maintained and the nation would prosper.

As soon as he stepped outside he spotted Lothíriel. She was chatting with the elder's wife in a mixture of westron and dûnish. Every once and a while, Lothíriel would say a word and the woman would correct her. Lothíriel's brow would furrow slightly as she repeated the word three times before continuing on with the conversation. The words that Éothain had spoken resounded with him. It had been a mistake, a grave one, and hopefully he could fix it before she left for Dol Amroth.

As he approached, Lothíriel spotted him and smiled. "This is Gerta. We've been talking about some of the customs of Dunland." Gerta turned to face Éomer and bowed slightly, though Éomer could see that it was difficult for her to bend forward. He reached out and helped her straighten.

"Please, don't hurt yourself in order to placate to me." He gave her a reassuring look. "I would ask that you and your husband come join me for our supper this evening and until then, please feel free to rest." Gerta nodded, her face relaxing.

"I will give your invitation to my husband." She nodded her head, rather than bow a second time before turning away, walking slowly to the guest house. As soon as she was out of earshot, Éomer turned to Lothíriel.

"I see that you're adding another language to your arsenal." Lothíriel lifted her chin at his comment.

"We work with the tools we are given." She paused for a moment, "You know, I could act as your interpreter while everything is being hashed out between Rohan and Dunland."

"I'm sure having someone along to smooth any miscommunication during translation would be a great benefit." He smiled. "In fact, I think having you by my side would benefit the whole of Rohan." Lothíriel's brow drew together as she looked warily at Éomer.

"What are you saying?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

Éomer moved closer to her, lowering his voice, "I'm saying that I don't know if I've ever met anyone who is as smart, decisive, diplomatic, witty and beautiful as you. I am saying that I have been a fool." Her arms came unfolded and fell to her sides as her eyes widened. "I'm asking if you would consider becoming my wife."

Lothíriel's mouth opened and closed a few times as she was about to say something but stopped herself before finally the words came out. "I thought we would only be friends. I thought I would have to enjoy my time with you and leave my feelings as unrequited." Éomer gently caught her by the chin and looked into her eyes.

"I didn't believe in love at first sight, and though it took some time for me to sort out my feelings, I believe I loved you since the day you saved my life and returned to your human form." He laughed quietly, "I know I've an odd way of showing it sometimes."

"Perhaps practice will make you better." She finally smiled.

"Perhaps it will." He bent covered the remaining distance and scooped her up into an engulfing kiss. She melted into him as his lips brushed and collided against her smoothed edges. His hands cupped her head gently while he tasted some of the honey from the mead they'd had that afternoon. Her own hands reached round him, her fingers tightening on the muscles on his back and he buried himself further into her.

"Well that answers that question!" Came a laugh. Éomer hated to do it, but he broke the kiss to look up and see Amrothos looking fairly smug. "You might want to conclude your smooching because Father's banner is on the horizon.

"Oh!" Lothíriel's face flushed, "what will we tell him?"

"What's to tell? As far as he's concerned, you're still engaged to him in the first place." Amrothos laughed again, "Though that was only an arranged match rather than anything to do with love."

"I think it's good that he's arrived already here." Éomer stated. "Because that means we can have the wedding as early as tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Lothíriel looked shocked. "In Gondor it's customary to have an engagement period of a year at least. Not to mention the people that ought to be present."

"You will not be queen of Gondor but of Rohan and most of Rohan is still present or nearby from the Summer festival. So long as your family is present, there is nothing in the mark's traditions that state we must wait." Lothíriel's face smoothed.

"Then I suggest we prepare to greet my father upon his arrival." She laughed.


	36. Epilogue

"'I'll be fine,' she says!" Éomer paced back and forth outside of the tent. "'I've done this before and have at least a month,' she says!" A sharp moan of pain stopped him in his tracks as he looked back to the tent, hovering by the door.

"Push, my lady. I can see the head!" The midwife's gentle but firm words instilled another long drawn out moan from his wife. It stopped and for a dreadfully long moment there was silence. Then there was a the cry of a baby. Éomer sighed in relief until there was another moan. His heart dropped as the midwife called for assistance while the baby's cries called out for their mother. For five agonizing minutes there was more pained cries until once more the prolonged moan and final push to allow passage to her second, and final, passenger. The flap to the tent moved and the midwife, her front covered in blood summoned the king into the presence of his wife. She sat, propped up against a multitude of pillows, holding two little bundles of pink flesh, each nuzzling against her exposed breasts. She looked up at him, sweat beaded her brow and smiled up at him.

"May I present you with your two daughters." She looked back down to the fruit of her labor while Éomer sat beside her quietly. Now that he was no longer worried for the wellbeing of his wife, he could enjoy the feeling of love that possessed him just as it had the first two times she'd given birth to his sons, Elfwine and Baldmund. He reached out and gently wiped the sweat from her with his sleeve before speaking gently, so as not to startle the babes.

"What will you name them, my love? For they are your daughters and in Rohan the task falls upon you." He watched as Lothíriel thought carefully, before she smiled brightly.

"Bloma for her," she eyed the babe in her right arm, "and hleápa." She indicated the babe in her left arm. Éomer had to force himself to keep from laughing too loudly.

"Flower Dancer?" He shook his head, "Very well. We will return to Edoras and introduce them to their elder brothers. But for now, I think sleep is something we could all benefit from." He kissed his wife lovingly on the lips before helping her sidle down to a more comfortable position, hleápa from her arms and holding her close. As he looked down at the peaceful face he thought of how his people had begun to call him Éomer Eadig, but it was in these moments that he truly felt blessed.

 **A/N: And thus concludes this story. While generally I'm happy with how it turned out (and didn't take 2 1/2 years to write) I think there were some lessons to learn from this exp. Outlines are a good thing to have and to sticking to them is a good thing. And writing a character with flaws doesn't mean their automatically unlikable.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this journey with me. My next project is going to be in the realm of my own world and characters and while I can't share too much about it yet feel free to follow me on Twitter and receive updates of when I'm writing and thoughts on my story as it comes along.**

 **Noting that, I'll probably be pulling beta readers from my twitter when it comes time to start that process.**

 **Feel free to review my story, I love hearing from you guys, even if it's criticism because it gives me an opportunity to learn and grow as a writer. But for those of you who just want to wait for my next fanfic, see you in my next story!**


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